


Tough Like Dandelions

by TooCreative4Life



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Captured, Control Issues, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Everybody Grows, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Good Friend Mason Hewitt, Good Theo Raeken, Heavy Angst, Hellhound Jordan Parrish, Hunters Being Assholes (Teen Wolf), Hurt Liam, Hurt Liam Dunbar, Isaac Lahey & Theo Raeken Friendship, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapped Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Kidnapping, Kidnapping Liam, Liam Dunbar is Theo Raeken's Anchor, Liam is a Good Friend, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Lydia Martin is Part of the Pack, M/M, McCall Pack, Mind Manipulation, Minor Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Mutual Pining, No one trusts Theo, Not Beta Read, Oblivious, Other, Pack Feels, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Past Allison Argent/Scott McCall/Isaac Lahey - Freeform, Personal Growth, Pining, Pining Theo Raeken, Protective Theo Raeken, Psychological Torture, Redemption, Sad Theo Raeken, Sassy Lydia, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Good Friend, Semi-explicit Psychological Torture, Slow Build, Stiles Doesn't Trust Theo, Theo Earns Forgiveness, Theo Raeken & Mason Hewitt Friendship, Theo Raeken Feels, Theo Raeken Has Feelings, Theo Raeken Needs a Hug, Theo Raeken is Liam Dunbar's Anchor, Theo Raeken-centric, Theo tries to be good, Thiam, Trust Issues, Two Years Later, Work In Progress, except liam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooCreative4Life/pseuds/TooCreative4Life
Summary: Not much has changed since Monroe's hunters invaded Beacon Hills. Theo tried integrating himself into the McCall pack over the last few years, but had little luck with The Nemeton was seemingly done attracting massive threats to the supernatural world, life returned to what Theo guessed was supposed to be normal and Liam off at college.Unfortunately, as the puppy pack has finally come hom, a new group of hunters has moved in on Beacon Hills. They've learned from Monroe and spent years creating a new type of weapon that transcends boundaries no one could have predicted. Not even Stiles.Theo will be pushed to his limits as he struggles to rein in his animals, which only he and Mason know he's slowly losing control of, while he tries to work side-by-side with the pack to save Liam (and Scott).
Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Comments: 54
Kudos: 82





	1. Screw The Damn Median

“Liam!” 

Theo’s voice ricocheted off the trees as he moved. He tried to stare through the darkened foliage, but even wolf eyes couldn’t pick up any definition among the trees. His fangs poked into his lips as he kept racing through. It had been hours since anyone in the McCall pack had heard from Liam when Scott had called. 

At first, he assumed that the pack was overreacting, jumping to conclusions without there being a problem to solve. He figured Liam would turn up a trail with a quick walk through the preserve, so he hung up on the alpha without a second thought to him suggesting backup. The only person who was ever tolerable for Theo to work with was apparently playing hooky from his pack. 

That was three hours ago. Now he was panicking, only finding the faintest of scent trails, so thick with fear that they burned his nose. Monroe left over a year ago. The hunter war should have left with her. Everything should have settled down. No more high stakes, no more losing people at random. Liam and the rest could finally just be teenagers, not crushed under responsibilities adults barely handled. 

“Damn it, Liam. Where are you?” Theo stopped, resting his shoulder on a tree.

Somewhere between harsh words, broken noses, ripped t-shirts, and not dying for him, they became friends. Not something he thought would happen. He hadn’t even noticed it growing, not that he accepted that it existed at first. Took a couple more injuries to his face before he believed what Liam and Mason were talking about. How was he supposed to recognize the fuzziness in his chest as friendship? Not like he had many opportunities as a kid. Friends were in short supply when he was growing up with the Dread Doctors. Yet, his stolen heart, as scarred and grossly misshapen as the Doctors had made it, still tried to stretch out. Against his better judgment, he let it keep growing. Somehow tendrils, fine as spider’s silk, spanned the trench between himself and the world, grounding him there with the force of steel. Well, one person really. Maybe two. Mason saved his ass more often than he cared to mention nowadays, tutoring him in physics and math.

Before going in the ground, if it came down to leaving Beacon Hills or dying, there would have been no choice. He’d have run and not looked back. Screw anyone who tried to stop him. Now? As scared shitless as he was of going back to Tara, he wouldn’t leave. Couldn’t. Too much of himself would get left behind, unknowingly given to a certain hotheaded beta that had yet to make him regret it. But that was only if he was honest with himself, which he never was. Honesty never got him anywhere good. 

“C’mon, little wolf, tell me where you are.” He pushed off the tree, inhaling the surrounding air again. 

He closed his eyes, focusing as much as he could on the smells, peeling back the acrid fear that stung his nose, wishing it didn’t make the wolf in him so uneasy. Turning, he slowly tried to dig beneath it, find Liam’s familiar scent. Explaining it to anyone else would be awkward. A warmth that he didn’t have words for except warmth, just like the beta always was. It was warm and… spice! Sweet, artificial spice of Liam’s deodorant and the underlying salt from sweat with his warmth. 

Theo’s eyes snapped open with a growl, glowing gold. He breathed deeply again as he pushed off the tree, claws slicing through the bark with ease, marking it. The smell strengthened by half a hair as he took in another lungful. Yes, he had a trail to follow. Mustering as much control as he could, he sheathed his claws, searching for his phone. He was redialing Scott before he fully pulled it out. The tone cut off as he took a full step forward.

“You find him?”  
“Found a scent trail. South-eastern quad, find the marked tree, and follow mine. I’m going aft-”  
“Wait for us.”  
“No. The more I wait, the more we risk losing the trail.” Theo half-winced at the growl in his voice. He had not meant to let that out. “Besides,” he chuckled, throwing on a smirk, “if she catches me, it’s not like it gives her any additional leverage over you.”  
Scott sighed, “Theo-”   
“The chimera has a point, Scotty. Just let him wal-”

He dropped the phone back in his pocket. As much as Scott tried to fake his forgiveness, the man was terrible at it. At least Stiles had the guts to openly show his contempt. Not that Theo would thank him for the daily jabs and constant scrutiny, but it certainly kept him on his toes. Liam tried to get between them once. Theo spent the next twenty minutes giving him a target for his rage other than a human whose main defense was a bat or sarcasm. So far Mason and Lydia were the only two to come out unscathed when refereeing his and Stiles’ tiffs. He shook his head, refocusing on the fake-spice scent lingering in the woods. He had a job to do. 

“Next time, I’m not coming after you,” he grumbled, starting off again through the trees, marking a few as he passed.

Theo punched a tree, growling as he felt his skin split against the rough bark, when the trail abruptly turned left for the seventh time, starting yet another circle. Or had he crossed back into the third? No, there wasn’t any of his scent lingering on top of Liam’s. The cuts would heal before the night was done, so he really didn’t care about them. Everything about the situation frustrated him. He was halfway to tearing out his hair. Progress through the woods was nowhere near what he wanted. Every few feet he had to stop and forcefully focus on the scent, figure out if it turned, or kept on. The hunters had gotten smart, probably dragged his hoodie through the Preserve, building decoy trails. 

He growled again, fangs pricking at his lips, yet again. The scabs were not likely to heal for a few days, given how deep they had to be by now, with their constant reopening over the last hours. He blamed Liam for the habit. It was his nervous tell. Theo hadn’t meant to adopt it, hadn’t realized he had until Mason had pointed it out a few months ago. There were a lot of things he was slow to realize concerning Liam and himself, apparently. 

A sharp scream shot through the preserve. Not recognizing the voice was a positive sign. The near deafening cracks of guns and the roar that followed were not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on updating this story every two weeks on Monday, except the 31st of August and holidays. 
> 
> Update: May 18th, sorry update might be late. Flew home on Friday night and haven't had time to finish up the chapter. So sorry guys. It'll be done by tomorrow night.


	2. You Are What You (Try To) Do

“Guess they found something.” Theo shook his head, a smirk twisting over his face. 

Rolling his hoodie off his shoulders and dropping it to the floor, he kicked off his shoes, placing the bundle under a thick oak tree. At least he’d put on sweatpants this morning. Replacing jeans was more expensive than he could afford and he would rather not take off his pants in the woods. Besides, these were his crappier sweats, and he had a half-decent replacement for his shirt in his truck. 

He marked the tree, gouging lines into the bark to find his stuff later. Briefly, he paused, honing in on the faint sounds of fighting, and he was off, tearing through the trees. He may be slower than the average werewolf, but he covered ground plenty fast enough. From one stride to the next he tipped forward, running with all four limbs, claws and fangs fully out. He all but shuddered as he pushed forward faster, smiling as he felt his muscles work, stretching out after being so tense from running in circles.

Inhaling deeply, Theo charged ahead, drawing more from his wolf, pulling it forward. Cracks and growls filled the trees as muscles and bones rearranged, but Theo didn’t let his step falter. He raced faster, digging in harder against the ground. Instinct guided him as he leaped over and ran through the undergrowth and he ducked around trees. It felt… good. How had he forgotten this power and freedom?

A handful of gunshots rang through the air.

Swallowing back the howl building in his chest, he jerked to a stop, looking around with a snarl. Spinning in a couple of tight circles, snapping at the air, he shook out his body and snorted. Liam was missing. That had to be his focus, not whatever the hell the awkward tingling in his skin was. Nothing else mattered. Theo growled at himself as he lifted a paw to his face, scratching at his eyes, batting away the faint tingling.

With a sharp shake of his head, he looked around, ears twitching. He should be close enough to pinpoint the Pack’s location. Again he launched forward, paws grabbing at the ground beneath him, undoubtedly carving deep tracks through the woods. His coyote warned against leaving such a trail, bristling at the lack of stealth. He would clear it later. There was a job to do. 

The sounds of the Pack and hunters would have been decipherable by Stiles now. Blood and sulfur lingered in the air as he slowed to a trotting pace. The closer he got, the more careful he had to be. He crouched as he moved, his black coat perfectly blended within the shadows. It would impress Corey, how invisible he was. He snorted as he peered around the tree, crouched, ready to spring, though he was still several feet away from the fight. 

He could easily pick out Isaac and Scott through the trees, and the small group of hunters between them. The wolves launched forward in unison. It was almost as impressive as Stiles standing his ground a few feet away, knocking another hunter to the ground with his barbed bat. Theo couldn’t see Corey, but he undoubtedly was close by, judging by the whistling popping of his boyfriend’s tranq gun. Had no one told Mason that shooting does not require yelling? Theo shook his head, snorting. 

_What brought them_ all _here?_ Scott said they were searching all over the Preserve. Theo sniffed at the air again. The usual sulfur from the hunter’s guns and the metallic tinge of blood stood above the waves of fear from both sides, burning his nose. He dropped his head, scanning the ground for anything the Pack and hunters didn’t leave, besides the musty decay of the forest floor itself. A hint of spice lit up his nose, drawing all of his focus. It was Liam’s deodorant; he was sure.

He streaked forward, nose to the ground, following the trail, even as it led straight through the middle of the fight. Maybe they saw him, maybe they didn’t, but no one was fast enough to stop him. Not like they needed him, anyway. The Pack was winning. He would only get in their way, or kill someone, neither of which would be helpful. 

Theo slowed again, lifting his head from the ground as both Liam’s and the hunters’ scent strengthened. He stalled, straining his ears. _Come on, little wolf, throw up a siren._ Starting again along the trail, he moved quickly and quietly through the trees. Though as they thinned, he realized he was running out of Preserve.

A streak of light stabbed through the night, breaking through the trees several yards ahead. Theo dropped to a walk, damn near tiptoeing as he advanced to the very edge of the tree-line, hidden by large bushes.

Theo froze, hackles rising as he gritted his teeth. Any sound would give him away. He had to stay still and quiet, despite the thick scent of Liam’s blood from the truck not five feet away. Everything in him roared to rip the hunters to pieces, to bloody the ground, and make sure they paid for their offense. Everything except the voice that sounded suspiciously like Liam, telling him not to kill. His lips twitch into a snarl as he flattens his ears, somehow still glued to the ground. 

_Bzzz._ A hunter's radio chimed. _“Come in, squad four.”  
_A woman pulled her’s from her belt, “Squad four, ready.”  
“ _Prize acquired. Repeat, the alpha is in hand. Squad two, requesting pickup and return to compound.”_

Theo shook his head, processing. The others had been winning, mopping the floor with the half-trained flunkies. For these idiots to get ahold of _Scott,_ of all people. It took a moon-crazed, IED-fueled beta to just nearly kill him. How could they have gotten him?

“Copy, squad two. What is your location?”

Theo growled, a deep sound from his chest, as he stood, emerging from beneath the bushes. He launched at the nearest hunter before she pulled her gun. Tearing out her throat was his first thought. The little voice screamed at him, _Scott doesn’t approve of killing_. He clamped his mouth shut, barely nicking her neck, leaping off as they hit the ground. He grabbed hold of an arm, biting down hard. He twisted his body, wrenching the hunter off of their feet with all his weight. The scream of pain made Theo's gut half-twist. Before, his coyote would have almost enjoyed causing pain like this. The blood that spurted from the gaping wound, leaking into his mouth would have spurred him on… He spat out the limb, backing a few feet away, his snarl more vicious than ever as he shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to hurt people anymore. 

Pain exploded in his shoulder, sending a sharp squeal out of him as he backed another step, forcing his attention back to the situation. Three hunters took aim while two more rushed towards him. Theo roared as he surged to meet the hunters. Skin shredded beneath his claws and bones cracked between his teeth as he brought the two to the ground. Neither of his animals cared, but he tried to leave them more or less alive.

He lunged for the center one, grabbing her ankle in his jaw and shaking his entire body, dragging her off balance. He sprang for the right one, swiping a paw at her head. Pivoting on her chest, he snarled at the last hunter, staring at the barrel of his gun.

“Time’s up, monster,” he chuckled, cocking the weapon.

Theo growled again, straightening from his half-crouched position. This was a first. A hunter with a backbone. Oh, any other day, he would rip out that spine and feed it to the man. One last snarling twitch of his lips, and Theo turned tail before the man could blink, disappearing into the blackness of the Preserve. 

He had to get back to the others, try to stop Scott from getting taken too, if he could. It was a long shot, but he had to try. No one would believe him otherwise. His legs burned, no longer conditioned to sprint across half the Preserve, but he didn’t slow. What abysmal energy reserves he had left, he used to push faster. 

Chest heaving, he skidded to a stop in the clearing. Whipping in circles, he looked for Scott. Theo stopped, standing still, shaking as his tail and head drooped limply. Everyone was there, either knocked out or restrained, but present, except Scott. 

“Where the hell were _you_?” Stile growled from behind him. 

Theo almost flinched at the tone, as it sliced into him, squarely hitting him in the gut, rubbing salt onto the wound he doubted Stiles thought existed. He lifted his head a few inches. A low grumble rose in his throat as he turned, meeting Stiles’ furious glare without a blink.

“You think I didn’t see your furry ass race through here? Where did you go, Raeken? Huh?” Stiles stepped into Theo, forcing him back as he growled. “And what are you covered- Is that blood?”

Theo dropped his head again as he stepped away. He grumbled, tossing his head around with a snort. Of course he was the one Stiles reprimanded for being bloody. It’s not like anyone else had it on them. _Oh wait, yeah they do._ A coarse, rumbling growl built in his throat as his ears flattened. 

“Did you kill someone, again? I swear to god, Raeken, if you did, you’re going away. For good this time.”

Theo froze, eyes narrowing at the threat. A snarl slipped out before he could bite it back. To Stiles’ credit, he didn’t even blink when Theo stepped towards him, lips pulled full away from his teeth, growling. Shaking his head in slow, deliberate motions, Theo backed away. 

“I’m pretty sure he’s saying he didn’t,” Mason translated, shrugging his shoulders.   
“As if the psychopath will admit he murdered people.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “We’ll find out eventually I guess.”

Theo growled, hackles raised, eyes narrowed at Stiles’ back. Dropping him would make his life so much nicer. No more jabs at his pre-Hell actions. No more incessant distrustful questioning of his motivations. 

“Chill, dude. It’s not like the rest of us agree with him.” Mason walked toward Theo, setting a hand on his shoulders, soothing the raised fur. “You got anywhere to sleep tonight?” 

Theo huffed at Mason. He always had somewhere to sleep. He nudged his friend’s leg before walking off, slowly making his way towards his truck. The shoes and jacket would be safe for the night, and even if they weren’t, it was the opposite direction. Fewer steps the better, he decided as he finally saw the vehicle. 


	3. Your Opinion Is Not My Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update last week was a day late, this week it's a day early to make up for it. Hope you enjoy.

The truck’s door closed loudly as turned towards the McCall house. Everyone else was already there. Their lingering chemotrails clung to the driveway, souring the air with anxiety and worry. Theo groaned, leaning against his truck, letting his head fall back. Inside was bound to be even more chaotic than the mess of signals hitting him, and he was not looking forward to it. Somehow they all seemed more frantic than they were eight hours ago. Being alpha-less was not a good look for this pack’s emotional stability.

Theo pushed himself off the vehicle, fishing for his keys and locking the doors before turning back to the house. _This will be fun._ He nodded to himself, taking a deep breath, attempting to settle the restless pit in his stomach as he walked to the porch. One foot on the first step and all the anxious chatter inside went quiet. Theo quirked an eyebrow. His arrival shouldn’t have shut down all their conversations. He knew better than to expect a positive reaction from all of them, but he had hoped for something that didn’t rival the arctic tundra. Stiles’s grumpy mumblings reached through the walls as he groaned and stopped at the top step. More hushed grumbling and a resounding growl from Malia filtered out, cutting off as Stiles opened the door, bat in hand. With Scott missing, the Pack-mom was in charge, which made it all the stranger they had allowed Mason to invite him.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles lifted his bat, resting the end on his shoulder. “Scratch that. I don’t care. This is a Pack meeting. For Pack only. No omegas. How did you find out about this?”  
“I called him,” Mason piped up from behind.

Though he reeked of nerves, Mason slid between Theo and Stiles and held his ground as the other spluttered and spazzed. Ever so confident that he could manage people’s anger. 

Stiles’ sputtering reactions almost made Theo laugh as he croaked out, “Wh- Why?”  
“Because we need him.” Theo stiffened as Mason stepped back and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking it a little. “We’re missing Scott and Liam, our two strongest. We need help.”  
“Listen to the younger you. He’s got a point. Let him in,” Lydia said, from somewhere behind Stiles.

A thin smile cracked the neutral face Theo had kept at Mason’s quiet, excited mumbling as he slipped past Stiles, standing like a wall in the doorway. He raised his bat, pointing it at Theo’s chest, eyes narrowing as his upper lip twitched. Theo dipped his head, acknowledging the threat. 

Grudgingly, Stiles lowered his bat, spinning on his heel, twirling his free hand over his head. “Where were we?”

Theo couldn’t stop himself from chuckling and nodding slowly to himself as Stiles he marched back into the living room. He communicated just like the wolves in Scott’s pack, and he didn’t even realize it. If he didn’t smell human, Theo wouldn’t blink twice at thinking someone had turned him. 

“You coming in?” Mason asked, holding the door open.  
Sighing, Theo half-shrugged, gesturing at the others, “Doesn’t seem like I’m wanted.”  
“When has that ever stopped you before?” Mason grinned at him, impish and sum.

Theo huffed, rubbing his eyes. That was a trick question. Before hell, though, he gave zero shits about who wanted him where. Nowadays, he tried to avoid places the pack gathered unless someone invited him. There were only so many times he could take getting stabbed in the hand just for existing near them. He shook his head, slow and sweeping, as he dropped his hand, letting it smack against his leg. 

He stepped over the threshold, jabbing at Mason’s shoulder. “I come out of this with a broken nose, I’m not answering next time you call.”

“Shut up, Raeken,” Stiles growled from his chair, eyes glued to the book on his lap. “You may not care about this pack, but some of us are trying to save our missing members.”  
“Stiles!” Lydia chided, smacking his arm.  
Mason stepped out, putting himself between Stiles and Theo. “Scott trusted him-”  
“Yeah, Scott trusted him the first time too.” Stiles glared at him for a moment. “Did no one see how he blew right through the battle, ignored all of us?” Stiles stood, closing the book over his fingers, jabbing it in Theo’s direction as he stepped around the table. “What were you running to, huh?”

Theo felt his gums and nail-beds itching at the challenging tone with barely enough time to keep them from coming out. Taking a deep breath, he tried to wrangle his inner-wolf, pushing it back, forcing it to submit. 

“I was on Liam’s scent trail, like I told you and Scott.”

The itch grew, turning to a prickle despite Theo’s attempts to get his frustration under control. He nudged Mason to the side, clearing the surrounding space. It had been years since his wolf was this out of control, and if Stiles kept pushing, he didn’t want anyone between them; least of all the one person who wanted him there. His wolf bristled at the thought. The hairs on his neck stood up as Theo clenched his jaw. This wasn’t the time to fight. He forced the instinctual animal out of the driver’s seat, rubbing at the back of his neck, smoothing the hair. 

“Did you find the end of it?” Malia asked, chewing on one of her five highlighters.  
“Yeah,” he forced out, hoping no one noticed his fangs. He shook his head briskly before clearing his throat. “A group of hunters guarding a van. There was a bloody heavy-duty animal crate in it. I think they were the extraction team for the others once they caught Scott.”   
Lydia pursed her lips. “How do y-”  
“I got there as someone said they had him over their radios,” snapped Theo.   
“So you were useless, is what you’re saying,” said Stiles, turning to go back to his seat.   
“Seriously, dude?” Mason huffed.  
“Yes! He hasn’t said one helpful thing since he’s been here.” Stiles turned to Theo, eyes set in a glower. “Your information isn’t useful, and neither are you because we _don’t_ trust you.”  
“I know!” Theo growled, his eyes prickling as they flashed. Inhaling again, he swallowed back the frustration and anger. “I know,” he sighed. “And I’m not asking you to.”  
Stiles clapped his hands together, turning back to the rest of the Pack. “Good, now that’s all cleared up-”  
“The van that took both of them was at the Preserve’s east parking lot,” Theo snipped, putting both hands in his pants pockets and taking a step back towards the door. “Liam wasn’t in the van, but his scent trail led there and it was still coming strong enough from the van. It has to be where they loaded him.”  
Lydia slowly stood, mouthing to herself as she looked over the table. “Stiles, do you have a map of the area around the Preserve?”  
"A few," he shrugged.  
"Get them. Now," Lydia ordered, sitting back down.

Stiles nodded, glaring at Theo, before running out of the room. Several loud thumps resonated in the room as he tripped up the stairs. Malia looked between Theo and Lydia, a curious crease to her eyebrows as she chewed on a pen. All their heads jerked to the stairs as Stiles came fumbling down, rolled maps in hand. 

“What’re you looking for, Lyds?” He asked, dropping them onto the table.  
“Wherever their base is, the east entrance is the most convenient access point for them.” Lydia smoothed a map over the surface, scanning it, before pointing to the parking lot.  
Malia's face scrunched before she asked, “And that matters why?"  
"Well, if you had angry, unconscious werewolves in your trunk, would you go farther than necessary when transporting them or take the easiest, most direct route?”  
“Direct,” Malia answered with a sharp nod.   
“Right, because you don't want any unnecessary risk.” Lydia moved her finger across the paper, following the roads. "And if we apply that to the hunters, that means their hideout is somewhere off the roads from this exit."  
“Lots of roads that branch off near that lot,” Stiles said, looking at another, smaller map.   
“The majority continue to the east or northeast directions, but even they end relatively quick, except for…” Lydia scanned it again, biting her lip as her eyes flicked over the page, almost faster than Theo could see. “Two. Just two roads that continue long enough to lead somewhere viable for them to have a facility.”  
“Meaning?” Malia asked, coming to stand next to her.  
"Meaning, we’ve got a more refined area to search,” Lydia said, grinning, turning to look at everyone else. 

Mason chimed in, joining her on the couch looking over the maps, as Malia started texting. Assuming she was letting Isaac and Derek know about the developments, the rest of the out-of-town pack would be in the loop soon enough. Letting out a slow breath, Theo leaned into the wall, half-smiling. He managed to be helpful, which had calmed the wolf and itching in his skin. 

“Where was this information last night?” Stiles asked, staring at Theo as though he was attached to a polygraph.  
Theo's smile twitched into a thick scowl. “I didn’t have human vocal cords. Not like you would have listened, even if I could talk. Too busy on your propped-up moral high horse.”  
“Y’know what, Theo. Get out. Now. Out.” Stiles picked up the bat from beside his chair, swinging it onto his shoulder as he advanced on Theo. “You’re not even supposed to be here, anyway. This is a _Pack_ meeting.”  
Mason tried to get between the two again, “Stiles-”  
“No. I’m not hearing anything else from him. For all we know, he’s the one pulling the strings behind this whole thing.”  
“Figures you’re still stuck in the same old paranoia,” Theo growled through his fangs as they dropped. “See if I move a muscle next time one of you pathetic idiots needs an extra set of claws.”

With a snarl, he turned to the door. His claws stabbed into his palm as he grabbed the knob and wrenched it open, slamming it behind him. Their shouting rang wordlessly in his ears as he jumped from the porch. He didn’t care enough to catch the words. All the wolf wanted was to lash out, to tear and rip at something. But he couldn’t. He had to stay in control. Always under control. One slip and any goodwill or trust he had gained would disappear. Dangerous things don’t get third chances.

There was nothing to do but fight it back, demand that it settle and force it into submission. Every inch of him shook as he leaned his forehead onto the window of his truck, taut like a bowstring ready to snap. 

“Hey.”

Theo whipped around, one clawed hand raised, ready to strike before he processed Mason’s wide-eyed fear. His claws and fangs shrank back as he stumbled back, caught by his vehicle as he gripped his head, groaning.

“I was going to ask if you were okay, but looks like I don’t need to.”  
“Go back inside, Mason,” Theo grumbled. “I’m fine.”  
“You sure? Because, I thought, almost clawing one of your — like three total? — friends is the opposite of fine.”   
“I said, I’m fine,” Theo growled as he stood, his eyes glowing again without his consent.

The rumble in his chest made him freeze. He turned away, trying to hide how his hands were shaking. 

“What’s wrong with me?” He muttered as he reached to grab his keys, pressing the unlock button.   
“The closest thing you have to a best friend is missing. If I were a werewolf, I’d be struggling with control too,” said Mason as he put a hand on Theo’s shoulder, gripping it softly. 

Once again, his truck caught his weight as his body sagged from relief he didn’t know he needed. His eyes stung and prickled as he tried to soothe his wolf as it keened for the missing wolf. He let out the breath that had gotten stuck in his lungs, choking on it as it flew out too fast. His shoulders shuddered, threatening to buckle.

“We’ll get him back, Theo. Safe and sound. I know we will.”

Theo bit back whatever pitiful sound pushed to squeak out of him, scowling at his distorted reflection in the truck’s door. Barely visible tear tracks, glowing amber eyes, bloody lip where he’d bitten too hard… He was a mess. 

“I’ll see you around,” Theo said as he pushed himself off the door, wiping at his face and opening the door with rough, disjointed movements. 

Getting in the truck was muscle-memory. Left foot lifted to the step, then up, twist, and down into the seat while pulling the door- His attention snapped to Mason blocking his door, holding it open. 

“You going to pick up the phone if I call you? Cause we need you to get him back.”  
“Sure, Mase. You call, I’ll answer.” Theo shook his head, chuckling as he jabbed at Mason’s chest. “But, if it’s another shit show like this, you owe me.”  
Mason chuckled, nodding as he backed up. “Just pick up the phone, and it’s a deal.”

Theo closed the door and turned on the engine, twisting around, checking for street traffic before pulling out onto the street, heading off to Beacon High, hoping to use the track for a bit. He needed a level head if he expected to get anywhere looking on his own.


	4. Chaos Is A Friend Of Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the hits and kudos! I really appreciate them. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

“Isn’t this like illegal?” Mason asked, eyeing the door.  
“Probably, but my dad hasn’t caught me yet,” shrugged Stiles, plopping down in the Sheriff’s chair. 

Theo rolled his eyes as he leaned back against a file cabinet, crossing his arms over his chest. This was not how he pictured these guys organizing themselves. Just the senior leadership, with an extra head that dragged him along. Yet he wasn’t the least bit surprised that this discombobulated mess of hormones was so dysfunctional. Who would have thought the pushover puppy and werewolf Hulk were the sensible parts of these meetings? 

“Have you guys found anything since Thursday?”  
“Did you, while you ran around scaring normal people?” Stiles countered, looking at Theo.  
“I didn’t see any of you out there,” Theo snorted, pushing off the cabinet, arms dropping to his sides as he stepped forward.  
“Some people are smart enough to not-”  
“Boys, focus,” Lydia sighed, sitting on a corner of the desk. “We’ve gone through the few neighborhoods around that section with a fine-tooth comb, right?”

Mason nodded, flopping onto the brown couch, as close as possible to Theo. “At least twice over.”

He recrossed his arms, a low grumble in his throat as he pressed his back to the file cabinet again. This whole thing was ridiculous. It was noon. They should be out searching with their ears to the ground, not huddled up in an office. Was this all that they had been doing? No wonder they found nothing the last two days. At least he had been out and about. Coyotes were the best trackers, strong noses, and the ability to move without a trace. He should have found something…

“Let’s go through the non-residential areas then. Look up warehouses, industrial plants, or abandoned construction sites in the area,” Lydia said, shifting to watch the screen as Stiles typed.  
Theo dropped an arm from his chest. “There’s a small lot of warehouse storage, like three abandoned construction sites, one them being a gigantic hole in the ground, and an old, condemned factory.”

Stiles peeked over the monitor, eyeing him distrustfully, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Theo blinked twice, glancing at Lydia and Mason, raising an eyebrow, unsure of what had caused such a shift in focus. 

“What?” He asked, his nail beds itching as he looked back at Stiles.   
“Why do you know that off the top of your head?”  
“The Doctors considered setting up in the factory before they found the sewer network since the non-res areas don’t get patrolled as often,” he said with a half-shrug.  
“Speaking of sewers, did anyone check them?” Mason asked, glancing at the pair behind the desk.  
“No, we will need to do that today too,” grumbled Stiles as he sat back, rubbing at his eyes.

Theo tilted his head, watching Stiles as he checked his phone. Dark bags clung to his face, no matter how hard he rubbed at them, and his eyes skipped across the room, half-dazed and half-spastic. He looked like shit. Admittedly, he wasn’t the only one. Without Liam around to drag him back to his house, Theo didn’t have access to a shower, unless he could sneak into the school’s locker room, or a bed other than the back of his truck.

“No way we cover all this in one day as a unit,” Lydia shook her head, pursing her lips at the screen.  
“Splitting up would be faster. Works in Scooby-Doo, right?” Mason smiled tentatively, looking between the others.

A wave of excitement swept through the room from Mason, light smell that tingled in Theo’s nose. Hope was still so foreign to him. It always took him a second to figure out what it was.

“No one in the Scooby Gang is a serial killer though,” Stiles grumped, looking straight at Theo. “We stick together. Can’t have anyone screwing with evidence or getting lost.”  
“What’s with the accusations, huh? It’s not like I’m the one that suggested it.”  
“But you’d be the one to benefit from it. So no. End of discussion.”  
“Stiles, you’re not being reasonable here!” Mason stood, once again standing between Theo and Stiles.

Lydia groaned, tutting at both him and Stiles. He wouldn’t blame her if she screamed and kicked him out. Arguing over him was getting them nowhere and wasted time. They would be better off if he stopped coming to these. Stiles would be less exhausted, more focused on finding Liam if he wasn’t worried if Theo was up to something. Mason would understand, even if his wolf and coyote wouldn’t. It was all about saving Liam. And Scott. They came first. 

“We’re splitting into three groups. Stiles, you take Theo and either Corey or Isaac. I’ll take Mason and Malia. Parrish will take whoever you don’t and your dad.”   
“What do you mean _WORK WITH HIM_?! He tried to kill me and succeeded with Scott!”  
“It’s the only choice that maintains everyone’s sanity. Work with him so you have your eyes on him at all times and work out your damn issues where I don’t have to listen to you.”   
“But-”  
“No buts.” Lydia whipped towards him, holding out a single finger. “You’re working with Theo. End of discussion. Now move,” she said, all but shoving Stiles out of the chair, ignoring his protests.

As much as Theo respected Scott, he had a healthy measure of fear related to the banshee. She had every member of the pack wrapped around her pinky, without some of them even realizing it. One look and most of the pack scrambled to listen to her. Not even Stiles had that. If she wanted, Lydia could scream out their eardrums and throw every one of them out a window without breaking a sweat. Her control was nothing short of impressive, always had been. 

“You’re being such a drama queen,” Lydia said, several quick succession mouse-clicks punctuating her words.  
“Queen? Try emperor. He’s embodying Kuzco,” Mason chuckled.

The printer roared to life next to Theo, shooting out sheet after sheet, which Lydia marched over and picked up. She handed him and Mason each a copy before returning to the desk and putting the rest into her purse.

“Everyone take a sheet, meet up with your partners in the designated areas. Check-in every half hour while you’re out. Check-out when you leave. Remember, these guys are dangerous, be on your toes, and don’t engage them. Understood?” She looked between each of them, waiting for their brief nods before smiling and nodding. “Good. I’ll see you boys, later then.”

A thin silence spread as Theo looked over the page. It outlined his zone in blue with a bolded note for Stiles to remember they were working together. He sighed, shaking his head. Together was a stretch for almost anyone in the pack with him. Almost. Liam and Mason put up with his attitude well enough. Probably a by-product of not grating on every inch of his self-control or assuming that he would not murder them at the first opportunity. 

Stiles walked away from the desk, hands linked behind his head as he sighed, heavily debating who would join them. Not that it really should have been much of a choice. Theo knew firsthand how great Corey was at reconnaissance and sneaking around, but Isaac was one hell of a fighter, according to Argent when they both came back a year ago. 

“Mason, tell your boyfriend he’s with Parrish and my dad. You,” Stiles pointed to Theo, “get your ass moving.”   
“After you, emperor,” Theo waved his hand towards the door, half-heartedly bowing.  
“You’re not my favorite person today,” grumbled Stiles as he huffed past him.  
“Let’s be real, I’m not your favorite person any day.”

Theo chuckled as he followed Stiles out of the building, turning to his truck on instinct before realizing he had. 

“Am I meeting you there or are we riding together?” He asked, half-turning back.   
“Meet there. I want to be as mobile as possible, just in case.” 

Nodding, he turned back to the truck. It made sense, honestly. The more mobile they all were, the better they could respond to any and every lead they got. Just because it made sense didn’t keep Stiles’ choice from stinging, though. No matter what he did, nothing would overwrite what he had done. Not that he would behave any differently in Stiles’ position. Trusting someone went against both of their natures, and he already betrayed him and his friends once.

Theo opened the door of his truck, climbing in with ease, turning it on in the same motion. He bit the inside of his cheek, screwing his eyes shut as he gripped the steering wheel. His wolf was spinning in circles again, whining, wanting to make right with the others, wanting a pack. Even the damn coyote was moping in its own way, bristling and snapping at him.

People don’t give trust more than once. He had been lucky that Liam and Mason really even bothered to try trusting him a second time. Stiles tried a second as much as he could, and then Theo turned around and stabbed the entire pack in the back. A third time would never happen, not with someone smart like Stiles. 

He hissed as he opened his eyes and threw the gearshift into reverse.

\- - - -

An hour of near-silent walking, with him burning holes in Theo’s back, had him about ready to scream. He had a lot of patience. Strategizing required it. Anyone could think up the greatest con of all time, the one where they got all the power, and the girl was still in love with them, the fairytale ending. He used to think he was the guy who could pull it off, maybe sans the love interest. There was never time for that, no reason to want it. What could loving someone give him that power couldn’t? 

“Do you even feel guilty? Like at all?” Stiles asked, tripping yet again over the slick forest floor.

“I don’t have time to feel guilty,” Theo huffed, walking a little faster, trying to hide how he flinched.

He didn’t need another lecture on his past behavior or how untrustworthy he was. By now he had heard every variation of those two topics, mostly from Stiles. Liam gave him a fair few those first months back, along with more bloody noses than he had cared to count. All they did was fight from the moment they met when all he knew about Liam was that a shit-ton of raw power existed behind the puppy face. He still had no explanation for why he played Ghost Rider bait, but neither did Liam about why he agreed to fight _with_ him in the elevator. 

“What does that even mean? How the hell can you be too busy to feel something?” Stiles mumbled behind him, trying to disguise his breathing.

It was as easy as breathing for him. Feelings were secondary. If it was useless in survival situations, then he didn’t care. If it made him vulnerable, he shunned it. Allowing himself to feel did nothing but put him in danger of being deemed a failure. He had been their perfect weapon for eight years, survived longer than anyone else, longer than them! Survival was all that mattered before. Living another day, siding with the winning team which he usually made sure was his team, was all that he cared about. The coyote in him had reveled in the thrill, smothering his wolf’s howls for something more. 

He pushed forward, stumbling into a jog, periodically scenting the air. If the hunters he mauled were still alive and active within their group, he could easily pick up their scent. That was the fundamental reason he was there, besides being another pair of claws protecting the human who preferred him in the ground.

“Where you off to in such a hurry?” Isaac called out as Theo passed him.

Slowing to a stop, he looked over his shoulder. The extent of his knowledge about Isaac was minimal. No reason to research someone who wasn’t around and hadn’t been for a couple of years by that point. He regretted that now. Isaac was even more of a closed book than he was. Intrigued as that made him, he respected the evident need for privacy. 

“You really care or just asking so Stiles doesn’t skin you too?”   
“Neither. He never scared me.”  
“Then why?”  
Isaac shrugged, “Leaving people unsupervised in this town gets people dead. Figured you’d be intent on staying alive till we got Scott and Liam back.” Isaac tutted as he shook his head. “Guess not. Too bad, though.”  
“I respectfully suggest you shut up before I acquaint you with my claws,” Theo growled, side-glaring at Isaac.

He had had enough of people jabbing at his credibility or reminding him how much of a liability they still thought he was. Just done with it. If Isaac wanted to judge him, then he could drop back and talk with Stiles about it. 

“Well, aren’t you just a fun little lollipop triple dipped in psycho,” Isaac said, biting back a hint of laughter. 

Theo’s growl deepened, growing loud enough to rumble through the trees. He could feel his claws and fangs itching to come out as his animals bristled, eager to let off the steam they’d been holding back all morning. At least Isaac had the decency to look stunned and the good sense to keep his mouth shut as Theo bargained his animals into submission, promising them a run later. Satisfied enough, they retreated, allowing Theo to force back the prickling in his hands and gums, sheathing his claws and fangs. 

“Pretty in control for an omega psychopath,” Isaac said, an impressed quirk to his lips as he smiled.  
“Trying not to be anymore,” he snorted, walking off again.  
“We all try to do that.”  
“We?” Theo couldn’t stop the shock from rippling across his face as he stopped and turned back to him.  
“Had a brush with power-hungry tendencies. Call it a reaction a shitty ass teenager-hood.” Isaac twirled his hand nonchalantly as he shrugged his shoulders and started walking.

He passed Theo, giving him a knowing half-smirk. His eyes lingered on Isaac’s smug expression, feet rooted to the ground. A smile tugged at his lips as he forced his legs to move, following the wolf. Never in his wildest thoughts did he ever consider that Scott and Stiles had previous experience with someone remotely like him. 

Theo didn’t have words as he watched Isaac out of the corner of his eyes. This was someone who said they had craved power, had had to survive in a crappy situation, and here he was showing genuine emotions openly, showing that change was possible… 

“ISAAC! RAEKEN!” Stiles shouted, still somewhat behind them.

Both stopped in their tracks and turned, glancing at one another before racing back to Stiles. How were they both such idiots? He forgot about the second most important part of this outing, protect the human. Of course, the hunters would have set up some kind of trap, and of course, he would have fallen in it, and par for the damn course, he would end up getting blamed. He deserved to be blamed for his own actions, not other people’s! 

He skidded to a stop just beside Stiles, scanning over him quickly as he turned, catching scents of panic and anger, but nothing besides Stiles and the woods themselves. 

“What happened?” He asked, stepping towards Stiles, watching the sparse trees.  
_“Retreat. Stiles, for fuck’s sake, I said retreat! They’re more than you’re equipped for,”_ Derek’s panicked voice rang out from the phone Theo hadn’t noticed that Stiles was holding.  
“Okay, Der, I hear you. Geez. You think I’m dumb enough to ignore you?”  
_“Do you want an honest answer or the one I’m mandated to give by being your boyfriend?”  
_ “Ouch, that hurts, Sourwolf. It really does,” Stiles feigned hurt as his eyebrows scrunched at the man who wasn’t there. “We’re heading back now. I promise- Derek, I swear. We- Isaac talk to him. Tell him we’re leaving.” Stiles held the phone out to the wolf, shaking his head with a fond, exasperated smile on his face. 

Isaac took it with a sigh, walking a few steps away as Derek continued to bellow into the phone. Theo shook his head, his animals surging forward again, both bristling and snarling at the thought of leaving before finishing the job. They had to find them. They had to do everything possible to find them. 

“What do you mean we’re leaving?” Theo asked. “We haven’t checked the whole section yet. We can’t leave them behi-”  
“I mean we’re leaving. Derek and Argent found intel on who these hunters are, and they’re bad news. Like _bad_ bad news, worse than Monroe.”  
“What do you mean worse than her? She turned the whole fucking town against us and nearly killed multiple people in the pack.”  
“Gee, a lot like someone else I know.” Stiles rolled his eyes, his entire body practically following the expression. “Jibing aside, we need to go. _Now_.”

Theo snarled, eyes blazing golden as he grabbed Stiles’ shirt and backed him into a tree before he had a chance to react. He only had so much control, and it was nearly gone, barely enough to keep him from physically ripping into Stiles.

“What do you mean worse than Monroe?” He growled, fangs slurring his words.  
“Take your hands off me, Theo,” Stiles grunted, trying to loosen his grip.  
“Tell me.” Theo’s grip cinched tighter, claws ripping through the fabric as he pushed Stiles more firmly into the tree.  
“I didn’t ask for details. Why would I waste time asking when I trust the people giving me the description and we’re supposed to be leaving.?” Stiles wheezed out the last part as Theo pressed harder into his chest, yet another growl seeping from him.  
“Let him go,” Isaac said calmly, putting a hand flat on Theo’s shoulder.

He glanced at him, snarling, unwilling to wrangle his animals. The coyote was crying for blood, yearning for revenge against the people who were supposedly worse than the most heartless person he’d ever met. The wolf lashed out at anything, too angry to see straight. Liam was in trouble, life or death trouble, and he was useless. 

“Theo. Let go of Stiles,” Isaac said, his voice still calm, his heartbeat slow to match.

His face scrunched up as he bit back a whine. They couldn’t leave. He had to get Liam back, he had to be safe. The longer he was with them the less likely that was. He looked back to Stiles. Scott was supposed to be his best friend. Why wasn’t he as terrified of losing him? In the blink of an eye Theo dropped his hands and moved away from Stiles. His animals shrank back as he distanced himself, staring at his shaking hands.

“Come on. Sooner we get going, the sooner I get to watch you attempt to interrogate Derek like that,” Stiles said, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he looked at his now hold-ridden shirt. 

He turned and lead the way back in the direction of the cars, letting Theo linger behind in silence. Isaac stayed next to him, a quiet support Theo wouldn’t have thought to ask for but appreciated. His hands shook in his pockets just as his shoulders did when he inhaled and exhaled, despite his best efforts to control it. Just like his animals the last two days, his body wouldn’t listen to him as he tried to calm himself. 

“What-” Theo broke off his own sentence, clearing his throat, hoping to hide how small he had just sounded. “What helped you, y’know, change?”  
“Being around people that made me want to, that I felt safe around, who made sunshine in the darkness.” Isaac chuckled quietly, more of a series of huffs as he smiled and wiped at his eyes. “You know about Allison?”  
“The Argent girl Scott was in love with?”  
“Yeah. She, uh… She and Scott were my big reasons. She used to say Scott was ‘pumpkin spice and everything nice’.”  
“That’s a tooth-achingly accurate description,” Theo chuckled, smiling as the waves of happiness rolled off Isaac. It smelled so light and damn near infectious, even though the salty tang of sadness lingered with it.  
“Isn’t it?” Isaac smiled. “No matter what he stayed all puppy dog smiles and heart eyes at the world. I didn’t understand how, especially after she…” Isaac exhaled heavily, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Now I do, more or less. Took a long time, but I do.” He stretched a hand, gently squeezing Theo’s shoulder, “You will too.”


	5. Maybe More Than A Little Unsteady...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the ones that kept wanting to know what was happening to Liam and Scott. Enjoy.

Theo dropped to the steps as Isaac walked past him and the others, bypassing the overcrowded table, and sank into the worn couch tucked into the far corner, eyeing the entrance. If there was any other way to get the information, he would have opted for it, but the out-of-towners wanted a discussion with everyone. Supposedly their information was hypersensitive, and they wanted to make sure everyone understood just how careful they had to be with it. So, he turned, hanging one leg over the edge of the staircase, toe skimming the concrete floor while he watched the group simmer around the table.

A little distance between him and other people was smart. The coyote was still ready to rip Stiles’ tongue from his mouth, salivating at the possibility of bloodshed and bristling with the same anger from earlier. He hadn’t gotten an answer yet, though. He needed that answer. The wolf whined, urging him to scramble for just a little more control, to stay just a little longer. Exhaling forcefully, he plastered the most neutral mask onto his face he could.

“You know, normal people don’t have a basement full of weapons,” Isaac said, circling his pointed finger around the room.   
“I’ll have you know, Mr. Personality, that every single thing in here has saved someone’s life at least once,” Stiles snapped, glaring over his shoulder as he continued to set up his computer.   
“What about that sword over there?”  
“Oh, that?” Stiles turned to look at what Mason pointed to. “That’s purely decorative.”

For an armory, it was pretty cozy, even with the numerous guns, bows, and other weaponry along the wall next to a line of small fridges and freezers with a greenhouse on top of them. It was almost exactly what he pictured a hunter’s basement looked like. Maybe Argent helped him design it. Regardless of its look, the confined walls were constricting the longer he sat. The anxiety in the room would have been palpable to him even if he wasn’t able to smell it flooding off of everyone, including himself. No matter how hard he tried — and he tried _very_ hard on the drive over — he couldn’t hide his scent or his heartbeat. He was as open and vulnerable as the rest of them, which only made his chemosignals and heartbeat spike more. Someone was bound to notice and ask questions he didn’t have answers to. 

His control was slipping like water through a clumsy child’s fingers and he didn’t know how to stop it. The anger from the woods hadn’t fully gone away. It sat simmering, contained but barely. He glanced down to his hands, claws sheathed for the moment. At least that was progress. If Isaac hadn’t been with them… he didn’t know what would have happened, and that thought stabbed him in the gut. He was better than this. Control was second nature to him, simple as breathing. It had to be. Failure was not an option. His hands started shaking. 

He threw his hands into his hoodie’s pockets, standing, giving his head a hard shake. Not now. Not again. As forgiving as Stiles seemed to be about the woods, he doubted a second outburst would be well received. Just as he turned, Mason looked back at him, asking him where he was going and simultaneously beckoning him to the table without words.

Sighing, Theo dropped his head and came down the last few steps and stood close enough to the group to satisfy his friend. The chatter wasn’t worth his attention, mindless half-solutions to unconfirmed scenarios while assuming unlikely details, so he watched Stiles and the screen he had connected the computer to.

Stiles dropped his eyes to the table, glancing at the laptop, tapping his fingers on the table as if willing someone to hurry and get on the Skype call. His anxiety spread over the room, quickly souring the air, almost smothering Theo as it affected the other weres. Malia’s eyes flashed as she shook her whole body and started pacing, snarling at Corey as he tried to come near her. He could have told the chameleon that wouldn’t work well. Coyotes and coddling weren’t meant to go hand-in-hand.

Not that the Dread Doctors ever did any coddling. They preferred fixing a problem sending him through more experiments, shoving another volley of needles in him and placing cold electrodes all over… He shook his head roughly, hiding the shiver that ran down his spine as he adjusted his posture, griping at his arms. He hoped no one noticed the racing blip of his heart rate as he bit at his lip again, kneading the still pink spot that had yet to fully heal. His skin itched and crawled, like it wasn’t sitting quite right after shifting back. The only thing that would help was running or tearing something apart; his age old solutions for unwanted emotions. Talking with Liam became another favorite option, but that wasn’t available right now on account of the stupid hunters. Bitting back a growl, he twisted his head, grinding his teeth as he backed a step away.

Skype’s Everly energetic ringtone nearly startled him out of his skin. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. He settled himself again, inhaling and exhaling in a constant rhythm as several faces popped up on screen.

“Sourwolf! Perfect timing.” Stiles’ shoulders sagged in relief as his chuckle came out more like breathy huffs.  
“For what?” Derek’s face was almost comical with his eyebrows almost jumping off his forehead as he spoke. “Don’t tell me they got someone else. Damn it, Stiles, I told you-”  
“I got everyone out safely. Have a little faith, eh?”   
Derek rolled his eyes, settling back into his chair, “I do. It’s just…”

Another series of loud _blup_ noises as Chris Argent, Jackson, and Peter appeared on-screen.

“These guys are serious business,” said Derek, nodding to Chris.  
“Why? What makes them so bad and so scary?” Theo asked, stepping farther into the circle, fighting to keep his eyes from glowing with every word.   
“They’re a research division of another old family,” Chris answered with his usual monotone delivery. “Supposedly they’ve been stealing wolves, keeping them for weeks or months, and then slaughtering their entire packs. They’ve done this across the US for sure, and there may be a couple incidents here in Europe.”  
“Sounds like a normal hunter network,” Stiles said, slowly narrowing his eyes at the screen. “A little bigger than average, and maybe a tad more sadistic, but we should be able to handle them-”  
Derek growled, frowning at the camera, “Stiles, you’re missing the poin-”  
“You can’t.” Chris’ face was stoic except for the subtle downturn of his mouth. “All the slaughters were done by, or at the very least led by, werewolves.”

The room fell silent.

“That’s ridiculous. Wolves wouldn’t do that,” Isaac said, face pale as a sheet of paper.  
Stiles looked over all the papers scattered on his table, mind running a mile per second, “Then, what-”  
“Be quiet and listen, then the adults might tell you,” Peter sighed, rolling his eyes at everyone.   
“Rumor is that they’ve hijacked the wolf part of a werewolf’s mind and induce a frenzied rage. They release the werewolf and direct them at the pack, picking off any they miss.”  
“Oh god.” Stiles stumbled back, barely catching himself. “If they… If they break either of them…”  
“They’ll be unstoppable,” Lydia said, her breath hitching as she spoke.

Sharp spikes of acrid fear spread through the room from everyone. This was so much worse than anxiety. It made his stomach drop and his blood all but freeze in his veins as his lungs stopped working. He was suffocating beneath the growing waves, caught in an undertow. Both the wolf and coyote ran in frantic circles, hackles raised, whining and scared senseless. A Scott that killed was terrifying. It wasn’t supposed to exist. The world wasn’t right-side up if the True Alpha started taking life rather than save it. 

“How do we stop them?” Theo asked, letting a growl bubble up, rumbling under his words.  
“I have an idea,” Corey said, grinning.   
“Thank goodness. Something sane,” Stiles sighed in relief.   
“It involves fire.”  
“Absolutely not. Nope. Next idea." Stiles looked around the room, practically begging with his eyes, "Anyone else, please.”  
“Okay, I’m aware Scott’s not a fan," Isaac sighed, debating his next words as he tutted twice, "but has anyone considered, I don’t know, murder as an option? It’s hard for someone to continue being a problem if they’re dead.” Isaac twirled his scarf around his finger.  
“Finally, one of you has a sense of how to get things done.” Theo snorted, nodding at the wolf. “I’ve been telling them that for years.”  
“Isaac, I swear to… No. We’re not killing anyone as our primary plan.” Stiles shot daggers with his glare at both Theo and Isaac before looking more softly around the circle, “Any further suggestions?”  
“Set up surveillance crews around the industrial zone, gradually narrow down where they are in it and then run some reconnaissance?” Peter said, watching his phone screen and tapping at it intermittently.  
“No. Wait. That could actually work.”  
“Were you going to say no to every idea?”  
“Only the insane ones,” Stiles said, turning back to his papers.   
“Doing that’s too dangerous. It leaves you guys too exposed, at their mercy on their territory,” Derek said, shaking his head.   
“Do you have a better plan, Der? We need to get them back ASAP, like fucking yesterday, because no way in hell I’m letting Scotty and Liam be turned into psychopaths. We’ve got enough of those around.”  
“We will need all the help we can get,” Lydia mumbled, looking over a written list before handing it to Stiles.  
“First crew will be Parrish and Corey. Second, Isaac and Mason. Third, Malia and I. Fourth, Lydia and…” Stiles paused, looking around the table, sighing, rubbing at his forehead. “You should be here by then, right?” He asked, looking at his boyfriend.  
“How long of shifts are you thinking? I’ve got about a half a day before I get there.”  
“Six hours?" Lydia suggested, glancing around as the others nodded.  
Stiles scribbled onto his sheet of paper, "That's long enough to minimize movement giving us away but short enough that people will still pay full attention if they rotate who is on watch. After you get here- Wait, Peter, you coming too?”  
“Of course. I’d never miss a chance to see my daughter.”  
“Okay, so we rotate back through until you and Argent get here.” Stiles nodded to himself, leaning onto the table. “Then we plan an offensive.”  
“I’m flying out in a couple days. Gotta make sure everyone over here is safe and ready,” Chris said, tone even.  
“Jackson, you planning on coming stateside too?” Isaac asked.  
“Depends on how bad you guys think you need more muscle.”  
“Considering we’re potentially going up against a group of high-ass-tech hunters, and both a rage-roofied alpha and werewolf version of the Hulk, probably a good plan to bring all the muscle we can,” Mason said, trying to conceal his worry, and failing spectacularly as yet another wave of fear rolled off him.   
“I’ll bring Ethan, too, then,” Jackson said with a nod.  
“Where do I fit in?” Theo looked at everyone, eyes flicking from face to face without moving his head.

Stiles sharply shook his head, pointing a pen at him. Theo could already tell by the pause that whatever he was about to say would not be helpful to his growing control problems. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to not let his attempt at neutrality drop from his face. 

“You’re the Crown Prince of collateral damage, you’re staying behind.”  
“And you don’t trust me,” Theo huffed, his eyes glowing dimly as he fought to keep his claws sheathed, keep an iron grip on his own arms.  
“Not strictly for the reason you’re thinking,” Stiles said, wincing half-apologetically as he shrugged with the entirety of both arms.  
“Get realistic, Stiles. You don’t exactly have the luxury of trust right now. You need me.”  
“I am being rea-”  
“I thought I told you both to work it out in the woods!” Lydia groaned, pointing between the two of them.  
“I’m not the one that needs to work through his bullshit,” Theo growled, turning towards the stairs. 

Part of him wanted to turn around, to stay, to fight and prove he deserved a place on whatever harebrained mission they could think up. More than part of him, but there was no telling how much longer he could keep his claws sheathed. The coyote’s rage had thawed his veins, taking them from frozen to boiling in a heartbeat, and the wolf wasn’t helping control it. There was no stopping the growl that rumbled in his chest as he turned to the stairs. 

“Call me when he gets his head out of his fucking ass. Or don’t. Not like I can care enough for it to matter, right?” He sneered the last words, venom leaching into every syllable. 

His chest clenched as he marched up the steps, struggling to hold back the raging howl. Who was he to be this upset at this situation? For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even part of the damn pack. Why was he trying so damn hard? What did he owe them? Nothing. He wasn’t friends or even friendly with half of them. Corey tolerated his existence because Liam had encouraged Mason, and who knew why Liam did anything. He didn’t. 

Before he could process it, he was outside, standing on the porch, griping the railing tight enough that he could have sworn he heard the wood groan beneath his fingers, just as a drowning man would grab at his lifeline. It may have well been his only lifeline, with how his animals were rioting in his head, instincts pulling him too many directions, dragging him down into a sea of anger and fear and longing…

The door squeaked behind him, clattering shut quietly, drawing his attention. He smiled to himself as he forcefully relaxed his shoulders. Mason wasn’t a threat, and he would be damned if he lashed out at him a second time. He had control. 

“Have to hand it to you, you certainly know how to make a dramatic exit,” Mason chuckled.   
“No point in doing anything if you don’t do it with style.” Theo snorted, trying to keep his voice from shaking.  
“Pretty sure you could be just as stylish minus the almost death threats and anger explosions.”   
“Nah, Stiles enjoys being right too much.” At least his voice wasn’t quivering anymore.   
“It might not be horrible to prove him wrong. Every once in a while. The man has enough of an ego to survive it, I promise.”  
Theo shook his head, bowing his head further, dropping it below the banister. “Why’re you out here? Shouldn’t you be planning with them? They need another actual brain.”  
“Making sure you’re okay.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I consider us friends, and the basic principle of friendship is caring about your friends.”  
“Nobody cares about me, so don’t pretend to. It doesn’t suit you.”  
“I’m not pretending.”

Theo snapped his head up, staring at Mason with quirked eyebrows, more than a little taken aback. True, Mason _actually_ seemed to trust him, but that was a far cry from saying without a hint of hesitation that he cared. He wasn’t even sure his parents had. If he had been a wolf from the start, able to hear their heartbeats, he might believe the words in his fractured memories. Little broken pieces of moments too blurry to see any definition in. That was all he had left. Nine years and that was it. 

“Well, you’d be the first,” he said, looking away, settling his eyes back on the porch.

“Not true,” Mason said, shrugging his shoulders and head, “but I’ll pick that fight later. Right now, I’m asking again: are you okay?”

The first instinct to let a smooth lie roll out of him kicked him in the gut, almost making it out before he clamped his jaw shut. Lying shouldn’t be his modus operandi anymore. He had to trust them. Where was he ever going to get if he didn’t? Something had to change, to give, to move. 

“I…” He looked to Mason and sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

—————

Liam blinked awake, groaning as he rolled onto his back, sharp coughs sending shooting pain through his ribs and aggravating the pulsing throb in his head. Every breath after made his chest twinge, nearly sending him into another coughing fit. A couple ribs had to be cracked, he assumed as he took in several carefully measured breaths. Oxygen was important, whether his torso agreed with his lungs was irrelevant. 

Slowly, he took stock of his body, bringing his hands to his face and wiggling his toes. Everything was still attached, thankfully, but not a single patch of skin was unscathed. Most of it was green, at least out of what he could see . He had been alone for an hour, not too much more, or the edges of the black one on his hand would be more faded. Without windows he had no actual way of guessing time of day, let alone keep track of time passed. They knocked him out too frequently for that. 

“Scott?” He called, pushing onto his elbows, biting back a groan of pain as every muscle in his torso screamed at him. 

No answer. They must have taken him when they tossed him back in. Worry tickled the back of his mind, worming its way past Liam’s attempts to focus himself. Remembering the hunter’s questions would be more valuable than worrying over something he couldn’t do anything about. He closed his eyes, groaning as his head continued to throb, sending pangs through his skull. All he needed were the questions. The grating gruffness of the guy that had woken him up with water to the face lingered in his ears, but the words slipped away too quick to catch. 

Clanging from beyond the far wall made him flinch, too loud in the silence, reverberating in his ears, chasing the choppy whispers away. Frustrating didn’t begin to cover the situation. If he couldn’t remember what these bastards wanted, then what good was he going to do the pack if they came to get him? They needed to know who these guys were, what they wanted, why they took him and Scott when they could have taken others too. Information was paramount, and he was failing at retrieving anything. His skin itched and itched as his wolf spun around and around, snarling at him, unable to settle. 

The last few months had been so easy, even on the full moons. He barely thought about controlling the wolf side of himself. It was just like breathing. An autonomous function, simple and expected. Now, he wished that he never learned control like that. Without it he was suffocating, unable to catch his breath as he ground the heels of his hands into his temples. He growled, jaw clenched tight as his teeth ground together audibly. The instincts pressed against his rational mind, sweeping aside his mantra, ignoring it. 

A sharp hiss punctuating his words as he rocked back onto his knees. For a second he was glad they had him. If this happened outside, in town around people, he would be even more scared. Theo was the only one that could be near him like this. It started because the asshole always goaded him into it whenever they trained and sparred together. Every single time. He would push and poke and prod at him, both with his stupid attack-retreat pattern and his stupid words. The blinding rage should have scared Theo, given that it scared him and he was the one that felt it! 

The wolf snarled again, latching onto the anger in his memories, circling it. Theo had been stupid to bring out that side of him so much. What if he couldn’t direct it? Liam would have been to blame, whether or not he was in full control, and he hated the idea of hurting, potentially killing, his friends. Why did that idiot think it was so funny to see him lose control? He had wanted to rip that damn smirk off his face more than he cared to count, to make him understand that this wasn’t a game and replace that over-confidence with fear.

Liam snarled, feeling his claws ripping into his palms. Blood trickled down his wrists, the metallic smell lingering in front of his nose, covering all other scents. His wolf stuttered for half a step before throwing itself forward, barking and howling in desperation, a hunger seeping into his stomach. He brought his hands down and watched the red fill his hand as he uncurled his fists, enraptured with the sight as the wounds stitched closed at half-speed. The smell kept hitting him with every pulse, worsening the raging in his head. 

Scott was thrown to the ground in front of him, snapping his attention to the door. His snarl shook the walls as he stood, lips twitching, showing his long fangs. Before he could move, a sharp stinging start in the back of his neck. Howling, he reached back, scratching furiously at his neck. He heard the door clatter closed, but all he wanted was to stop the stinging. It rattled his skull, worsening the throbbing at the side of his head, sending the wolf further into a rage, all rational thought erased. 

“Liam? What’s wrong? Liam!” Scott shouted, voice tight and strained as he struggled to get to his feet.

The sound of Scott’s voice stalled the wolf, silencing part of the boiling rage. He stumbled back, grabbing at his head. Everything was spinning so fast in his head, the floor might as well have been flipping around too. He wouldn’t notice. Air wouldn’t stay in his lungs, it pushed out too quickly. 

A voice outside the cell rang through the panic, “Attack.”

Liam froze, his chest barely moving. The wolf stopped too, caught between half an urge to obey and another to pull apart the bars and rip out her through. This was his friend, his alpha, he couldn’t attack him. He wouldn’t. Some things even an IED wolf wouldn’t do.

“Attack!” She repeated, louder, pulling something out of her pocket, clicking a dial. 

Liam’s body started shaking as the stinging doubled, turning into a violent shock that ran down his spine and stabbed at his head. His wolf howled, thrashing, snapping at anything near him, driven back to rage. A chuckle echoed through the cell, drowned as Liam launched forward with an ear-shattering roar, claws ready and raised. 


	6. Emotions Are For Children

Theo stared at the clothes on the counter, stuck in the doorway. The warm spiced scent had rushed him, stopping all thoughts, pausing the animals. It was the calmest the wolf and coyote had been in days. He stepped into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him, but not letting go of the handle. For a moment he debated calling to Mason and throwing the sweats and shirt back at him, saying something along the lines of not wanting an angry Liam breaking his nose again for wearing his clothes. The thought died quickly as both his animals keened and his hand twitched, half-reaching forward to where the clothes were set on the counter.

No one else had to know. Mason probably just grabbed the first thing in the pile of clothes that weren’t his. Between himself, Liam and Corey, there were undoubtedly a fair few things in that pile. It wasn’t like Liam wore these sweats nearly every weekend because they were his comfiest pair. How was a human expected to notice details like that? He shook his head, taking a breath as he gripped the counter. 

“Get a fucking grip,” he said through gritted teeth.

The annoying prickling started again behind his eyes as tears built at the corners, and his chest tightened. Crying was humiliating enough. Why did it have to physically hurt too? He hated it. Hated the way his eyes would get all puffy and red at the slightest hints of tears, dead giveaways that refused to disappear no matter how he rubbed at them. Hated the way every inch of his body would shake and shudder, threatening to fall apart for good, to melt under whatever pressure had pushed him past his breaking point. 

He shoved himself away from the counter, all but tearing off his clothes, barely keeping his claws away before stepping into the shower. With no care for temperature, he turned it on, forcing himself to stay still as icy streams pelted his skin. It prickled in an almost painful kind of way, just enough to pull his mind from what was beyond the curtain. Deep breaths in and out helped calm both his animals as they whined at the strong scent was diluted by the water. The chill also cleared his head, allowing for him to focus on something other than the unnerving rolling in his gut and incessant nagging from his animals that something was missing. He knew damn well what was missing, but friend or not, it shouldn’t be affecting him this much. 

The slow simmering uneasiness turned back to anger as he did his best to rip off a layer of skin along with the dirt, grime, and sweat he was washing away. Where else was he supposed to direct it? A wry laugh broke the deafening silence of the room as he shook his head. Maybe when this was all said and done he would apologize to Liam about playing with him so much. If this was even a fraction of what he felt, what he had inside had to be monstrous. He had been dealing with this for not even a week and he was ready to snap someone’s neck for breathing in his direction. 

When he rinsed the soap from his skin and hair, he shut off the water and stood, one arm pressed against the cool tile, bearing most of his weight as he plonked his head onto it. None of the unease had dissipated, nor the anger. At least he didn’t want to cry anymore. He swore he almost choked on bile as he reeled back, furiously shaking his head.

“This is pathetic,” he growled, fighting back the surge of bristling frustration.

Nothing settled him. He couldn’t figure it out. Where had his immaculate control gone? There was no way it unraveled this quickly. Or maybe it had, and the Doctors were right to keep him so far removed from normal people. All he did was let himself enjoy a minor comfort, relaxed the iron grip he strangled his animals with, started listening to them both and his developing conscience. Maybe the wolf took the leeway and ran, taking the coyote with it, devouring his weakness. Peace was never supposed to be part of his equation. 

The Dread Doctors wanted a weapon, something lethal, strong and smart enough to take down any enemy of theirs, a loaded gun they just had to point. Controlling the trigger had been all-important. They drilled it day in, day out. Control or pain, but no screaming. That was just another kind of losing control. Either he learned to manage and curtail every instinct or they punished him. Absolute obedience or he was useless, just another experiment. He grimaced as phantom pricks made his chest clench. All or nothing. Ghostly echoes rattled in his ears, growing louder as he picked out his own cries, calling out for his parents. He was shaking again, alone in a sewer bedroom that looked nothing like the ninja turtles’ did. 

He jolted backward, tripping over the edge of the tub, barely not falling straight onto his ass. The ground was not a soft landing, but he didn’t register it. His chest was heaving, air catching in his throat again, barely wheezing out of him. In taking air went even worse. The floor offered no grip as he scrambled back to standing, holding onto the counter tighter than a boa would its prey. Chest rattling coughs shook his body, somewhat clearing his airway, allowing for a couple of deeper breaths. He buried that in a hole so dark and deep at the back of his mind. It shouldn’t have come back. 

Neither was he, technically. Hell was a one-way trip for anyone else. He lifted his head as he shook it. 

“I am not a failure,” he ground out, staring at his reflection. 

It barely looked like him. None of the confident exterior remained, not even a shred that he could hope to cling onto. All he could see was the haunted, sunken eyes of the scared kid who never understood why his life got so dark. 

His fingers passed over the grotesque scar, cringing as he felt the mangled skin. It healed all kinds of horrible, even for being human at the time. Sometimes he wished that he was a full wolf, to heal it all away, to erase the ugly reminder of just how much of a monster he was and what he wouldn’t do for power.

Could he even technically call the heart his? By all accounts, it wasn’t. He stole it, along with the rest of her life. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t ask for it. How would a ten-year-old even have known how to ask for that? Tears rolled down his cheeks again, heavy fat ones that he felt fall as he flattened his hand over his chest, feeling the heartbeat beneath it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning his head away.

A flash of grey on the counter caught his eyes. The clothes sat neatly folded and ready, still giving off the warmed fake spice. His wolf whined, making his hand twitch and stretch towards the pile. Barely a heartbeat later and he was getting dressed in Liam’s clothes, repeatedly telling himself that it was not soothing the anxiety from his animals.

He opened the bathroom door with a cautious slowness, peaking around it like a child sneaking through the house. He had never been left alone in Mason’s house before, let alone told to go shower here. Everything was so thrown off without Liam. Mason’s was for video-games and movie nights, piles of junk food, and senseless laughter that made him smile. This place was peace and shelter, somewhere he never had to hide what was going on. He could breathe and blend into the background just to watch the world with no one worrying about what he was up to. 

Right now it felt so opposite to that. There was no time to goof around or stay still. The lightness that normally hung in the air was gone, replaced by a stale sort of dread, limp and lifeless without Liam. He bit at the spot on his lip, somewhat amazed that it hadn’t turned into a scar by now, crappy chimera healing powers be damned. If it did, he entirely blamed the beta. Before they met he didn’t have anyone to worry about. Half the time he didn’t even worry about his own well-being, assuming that he would find a way around any situation or be able to beat anything that came at him. He was the strongest chimera, a living weapon that was clever as the devil and twice as vindictive. 

“You coming down soon?” Mason called from downstairs.

That’s what he _was_. Past tense. No matter how badly they all needed Scott and Liam back, he wasn’t going back to that. He was in control; he had a _choice_ now and he would keep those instincts on a tight leash. No one had time to rein in a crazy chimera. Sprinting forward was his only choice, keep going, and maybe he could outrun his demons. Fat chance, but still, he could hope. 

“Yeah, one more minute,” he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The stairs were far more daunting this way around, far steeper than they had seemed not even twenty minutes ago. It shouldn’t be this hard to just talk to someone. Words were words. He could spin any kind of web and Mason would buy it. Lying to a human was so much easier than any supernatural being, which he figured he still could do. Skills don’t just disappear because they’re not practiced every day. Get a little rusty, probably. Rusty still could beat a human’s detection skills, though. 

With a sigh, he turned and started down the stairs. Each one squeaked, a quiet little sound, something he never noticed before. They were always running up and down, clomping like rhinos according to Liam’s mom, so it wasn’t surprising that he missed that detail. He used to notice everything, down to the thickness of a dust layer on an abandoned dresser or the heaviness of a scent in the room to determine the best time to drop a proverbial bomb on people. 

He walked to the kitchen, guided by the soft sounds of a spoon scraping a bowl and gentle music. 

“Stress baking?” He asked with a half-smirk.  
“Yeah. Figured I’d try to be somewhat productive if I was going to be stressing out in a kitchen. No one’s really eating enough right now, so sweets for the calories and maybe to help settle some nerves.”  
“Makes sense.” Theo nodded, sitting on one of the bar stools, watching Mason work. 

Rhythmic and even, in time with most of the music, he almost was dancing as he mixed in and weighed out ingredients. Maybe Jenna would let him use her kitchen every so often. Highly likely if he shared his results. She and Liam had such sweet-tooths. 

A wave of anger swelled. He gritted his teeth again, hands curling tightly into fists as a short, barely audible growl rolled out of him before he could stop it. 

“Not again,” Theo groaned, grinding his teeth.  
“You okay?”  
“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head and scowling at himself. “I’m fine.”  
“Can you just take the damn mask off for a minute?” Mason slammed the spoon back onto the counter. 

Theo froze. All his senses focused on his friend, trying to parse through all of them, to understand what he was expected to do. Nothing was coming to mind though. The sharp anger was too mixed with sadness’s salty tinge and abrupt stop of regret.

“Look, I get that you guys think life’s easier with a mask, but the normal people around you can’t do anything if you don’t let them in. I’m not asking because I want to know, I’m asking because I want to help.”  
“Help is overrated,” he snorted. “Besides, who else notices?”  
“Liam and Corey, for starters. You’ve got friends, dude, at least when you’re not being your stoic, overly sarcastic, fake-asshole self.”  
Theo grit his teeth, lips twitching as his gums itched. “I never asked for you guys to be.”

It didn’t matter how scary he got if he growled and snarled Mason would barely flinch. What was an emotionally compromised chimera against the werewolf Hulkling? His tantrums probably wouldn’t even make the top ten scariest moments in his life. All bark, no bite. Just a pitifully complicated…

He threw himself off the chair, spinning away. “I don’t care about friends, I don’t need them.”

His animals writhed at the words, the wolf in pain, and the coyote in anger, both loudly snarling at him. Their frustration boiled into a low groan that slowly surged into a growl as his hands tightened into fists, trying to keep the claws from emerging. There would be no forgiveness if he got blood on Liam’s pants. Why did he care? Let him be angry. Let the whole pack hate him if they wanted to. He didn’t care, nothing would ever change. Let the entire town burn for all he cared.

“Yet, you and Liam hit it off pretty quick.”  
“After a few handfuls of broken bones.” Theo half-chuckled, rolling his eyes. “And he still regularly threatens to break my nose.”

Sometimes first impressions were spot on. Liam was _a lot_ stronger than his little baby face had suggested, and in more ways, than he had first thought. 

“Has he recently though?”  
“No. But we worked on control. He rarely loses it anymore,” Theo shrugged, shaking his head.  
“Yeah, _you two_ figured out how to help him control it. _You_ helped him. I tried for years. Hell, Scott tried for a couple of years and got nowhere. Then you help and he masters _all_ of his anger?”  
“I used some alternate methods,” Theo countered, crossing his arms.  
“Get it through your head, you’re important to him, and I mean more to him than anyone. And I know you care about him too. Otherwise, why are you still here?”  
“As if I could put a pinky toe across the town limit.” Theo turned back to Mason, raising his hands in exasperation.   
“You could’ve. No one was going to stop you. So,” Mason sighed, stepping around the counter, “why did you stay?”   
His hands dropped, slapping hard against his thighs. “Because it was easier.”  
“Really? Being watched almost 24/7 is easier for you than picking up and getting the hell out of dodge?”  
“I just…” Theo shook his head, gums itching as his whole body started shaking too.   
“I’m willing to bet it was Liam. Something about him, from day one, had you intrigued right? He’s important enough that you’re fucking losing it without him-”  
“I don’t _need_ anyone!” 

Theo staggered back from the roar, anger falling from his face as the animals cowered, retreating. How in the world did Liam control his anger? This wasn’t even close to a fraction of his levels, and here he was struggling like some new bitten wolf.

“I don’t,” he huffed, trying to force a smirk as he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Still almost speechless, he let out a long exhale. “How do I fix this?”   
“Fix it? What’s there to fix?”  
“I’m not supposed to have one.”  
“One what?”  
“I… I _can’t_ have an anchor. I’ve always controlled this on my own.” Theo dropped his head, resting it on his arms.

Of all the stupid things he did, this had to be the worst. Attachment was weakness, weakness meant death, and death was not an option. He should have seen it, should have stopped it before it got anywhere near this far. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to people like him. He was a damn death sentence. Just ask the tens of bodies he put in the ground. 

“He’s my friend. That’s it. H-he,” Theo shook his head violently, trying to shake away the tingling in his eyes and itching of his gums, “he can’t be more than that.”   
“Not to burst your bubble, but friends don’t look at each other the way you two do.”

Not for the first time, he was happy Mason couldn’t hear the way his heart sped up or smell how drastically the air just changed. The flinch probably telegraphed everything, though. He was more apt to catch things than most of the people in Scott’s pack. Sometimes it was amazingly helpful, other times it was more annoying than anything else. 

“Does he know?” The broken note in his voice made him wince.   
“About what? That could apply to like a thousand different questions.”  
“Does he know he’s my anchor?”   
“No, but he’s like fifty to seventy-five percent to figuring out you’re his,” Mason said with a smile. “And to realizing that he’s head over claws for you.”

Theo sighed, slumping down against the wall. There really wasn’t any other explanation. Anchors didn’t pop up out of nowhere. They were damn near pre-cursors to mated bonds in most, semi-reliable, literature. He didn’t want that. Never thought about it enough to want it, or consider it. He wasn’t even fully supernatural. This shouldn’t be possible. It couldn’t be true, there had to be something else. _Anything_ else.

“I tried not to… you know… I really did.” He wanted nothing to do with emotions or attachments. “But he’s just too…”  
“Brave? Kind? Sunshiney?”  
“All of those things.” Theo’s nod turned into a shake as he leaned his head back. “This risks everything he has.”  
“Risking? Why would he be risking anything? It’s not like you’re getting him to fall in love with you and then bailing the next day, right?” Mason’s chuckle slowly turned into a half-glare. “Right?”  
“There’s no guarantee I’m changed for good, and if I screw up and it blows back onto him, the others would never forgive it. I’d be dead before you blinked.”  
“That’s such a stupidly unlikely scenario-”  
“I’m the best there is at doing terrible things, Mase. That will always be a part of the equation.”  
“Not really. People do bad things when they’re trying to survive.” Mason squeezed his shoulder gently. “You’re a good person, mostly. Good enough. No one’s perfect.”  
“Did you forget your True Alpha?”  
“No. But he’s not as perfect as everyone thinks he is. He’s got his insecurities, his unhelpful tendencies, the parts of his that aren’t all that pretty. We all do. What matters is how we work to fix them.”

Pretty though the sunshine and rainbow future Mason painted was, he knew that wasn’t his future. Nothing good ever lasted. Good wasn’t permanent. He would end up hauntingly alone, six feet under without a headstone, left to rot and be forgotten. What other way could this whole scenario play out? He was dark from the beginning, a corrupted little kid that watched his sister die, and down the rabbit hole to the ever scarier and blurry blackness of the Dread Doctor’s twisted upbringing as he continued to fall.

He fought the urge to say something back to Mason, knowing he would just keep trying to refute it. At the very least he should be happy to have so much support from him, but stuff like this wasn’t meant to be in his life. Something as broken as him would only slice Liam to ribbons as the sunshine puppy tried to put him back together again. He was poison, and sooner or later, if he let himself have a chance with Liam, the brightness and innocence in his eyes would die.

————

“Stay away!” Liam sobbed, curling tighter into the corner.

The blood was still dripping from Scott’s wounds, pooling into bright, sickening puddles by his knees. He could feel the stickiness of it heavy on his hands, drying, pulling at his skin as his stomach flipped again. This was so much worse than last time. He had been in somewhat in control, enough to remember it. All he remembered was the frenzied rage that whited-out everything else, building and building as his wolf took over, and the screams… His stomach lurched, threatening to return the remnants of yesterday’s lunch, starting a new round of dry heaving sobs. 

“Liam, it’s okay.”  
“How the hell is this okay? I nearly tore you to pieces, Scott! And I could do it again, any time _they_ want.”

Worse than anything, he couldn’t stop. The wolf had taken over, latching onto that part of him that was always so angry at the world and just lit itself on fire. They barely had to do anything and here he was jumping at his alpha’s throat, again.

“We’ll get through this.”  
“How? They turned me into a weapon. What if they turn me on the others? You’re a fucking _alpha_ , Scott, and they had to tranq me to keep me from killing you. They’re not. _He_ ’s not.” His body shuddered as he shook his head, tears trailing down his cheeks. “I could kill him and I wouldn’t even know except for his blood on my claws.”  
“That won’t happen.” 

Scott’s voice was so sure, so strong, echoing off the walls. His heart didn’t even skip a beat. Honestly, he envied his friend’s ability to remain a perpetual ray of sunshiny goodness, that after so many years and too much loss his optimism was damn near unbreakable. 

“What makes you so sure?”   
“We always find a way.”  
“What if we can’t? Scott, I… If I kill someone…”

For a second the confident set of his eyebrows faltered and a wave of something sharp hit Liam’s nose. Quick as the crack appeared it was paved over with determination, his brow setting deeper as he rested a hand on Liam’s shoulder.

“They’ll find a way. Between Lydia, Stiles, and Theo, I think our pack could take over the world.” Scott smiled, broadcasting such a gentle hope that Liam couldn’t help but answer it.  
“The power throuple,” he huffed, a hint of a smile cracking across his face.  
“Throuple? You know what, never mind. I don’t need to know what Stiles has taught you.” Scott shook his head, letting out an airy chuckle, punctuated by little coughs. “Whatever it is, they’re powerful enough to get us out of here. Plus, Isaac’ll probably try to kill someone to get us out of here.”

Liam couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up. He forgot about Isaac’s tendencies. Maybe they should be a little worried about what the others’ plan would entail. Hardly any members of the pack were known for their restraint, aside from Scott, Lydia, and Kira. Hopefully, the pack queen had everything under control. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now through the end of August I'm going to attempt a weekly upload schedule. I want to get as much of this story done as I can before school starts back again so that you all don't get stuck waiting until December for regular updates again.
> 
> Hope you guys liked the longest chapter yet.
> 
> UPDATE: 12/16/2020  
> Sorry this took an unplanned hiatus. School kicked my ass more than I thought it would. I'm back to writing though, so hopefully I'll get a new chapter out in the next couple weeks.


	7. When Push Comes to Shove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! Life got really hectic for a while there and this chapter is a monster mammoth. Not going to let this story go unfinished though. It's too good and you guys are all too amazing to let down like that. 
> 
> Thanks to SteamFox22 for beta'ing the chapter. It really helped the creative gears keep trucking on.
> 
> OH and I made a playlist that I listen to while writing. It's made to follow the story's general feel/mood chronologically, so I recommend listening without shuffle.  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/35D2P7SUYujeqxHEqng8Ae?si=WP1s_AxfSJKavsMPPVQPkA
> 
> So, without further ado, here's where it starts to get fun folks. ;) Enjoy.

A short growl rippled from Theo as threw himself to ground, only just landing on his bed. The thin mattress topper wasn’t much of an insulator against the floor, but it was something. He would have kept sleeping on the bare wood if Mason hadn’t supplied the topper. Anything was better than the deputies waking him up every few hours in his truck. Staying with Mason was straightforward logic and necessity. Comfort never meant much compared to survival. 

He shook himself, a crawling sensation scuttling over his skin yet again. For a moment he debated shredding his skin off, wondering if there was another spider beneath it. Three days of near-constant itching was driving him insane. The moon never drove him this crazy. Not even as a freshly made chimera had he felt so wrong in his skin. 

_Granted, a lot of things are harder than they should be at the moment,_ he thought to himself with a long sigh as he brought his hand up, fingertips grazing the chilly glass. His focus landed on his own streaky face, twisted in an expression he didn’t recognize in his own features. With a brusk snort, he pushed his focus past the window.

According to Mason, everything would settle after they got Liam back. He stretched a hand to the window, a pit forming in his stomach, similar to when black tendrils snaked through his veins but colder. Part of him wanted to charge in regardless of the plan, to run straight at the idiots and let his wolf tear their throats out. Screw the pack. Let them scream all they wanted about murder being wrong. Liam would be safe. 

He needed to keep it under control just a little longer, or else Stiles would shackle him in Lydia’s lake-house basement. It would be a significant downgrade from Mason’s attic, which aside from the dust and the squeaky floor, was nice. Beyond nice, actually, given Mason said it could be his space as long as he wanted. Being a guest at the Dunbar’s was nice for a while, but the cheery warmth suffocated him at times. 

His lack of permanent accommodations never bugged him. Why would it? His family moved a lot, and the Dread Doctors even more often. Nothing lasted forever, except him. He was the strongest chimera, the longest lasting experiment, the one that never bled silver. Somehow he would make the hand life dealt him work. Sure, it sometimes involved a little light thievery or going a way out of Beacon Hills to find some quick, quiet cash, but that was life. Survival of the fittest. Everything was about survival till he came back.

He wiped the pane again, brushing away the dull, moist coating. There was nothing new on the street. His wolf and coyote whined, almost pushing one out of his own throat. What did he expect? The chances of Liam stumbling up the rainy street after two weeks of being missing were slimmer than slim to none. 

He should have seen this whole mess coming, should have stopped it before it got anywhere near this far. What was he good at besides hurting people? Lying, maybe. He nodded to himself, relaxing the death grip he had around his knees. Deception was a game he mastered too young and still played too well for his own good. He couldn’t lie about this, though. Not even to himself anymore, thanks to Mason.

“I didn’t mean for it to get this far,” he said, sliding his hand down the glass, leaving a smeared streak through the condensation. “We both know I’m not built for falling. Not even a little.” He pressed his forehead to the glass, scrunching his eyes closed. “Not really falling though, when you don’t even realize it’s happening, is it? More like violently crashing.” A brief smile tugged at his lips. “What isn’t violent between us? I still owe you for breaking my nose last year.”

He reached to wipe at the fog, leaving streaky condensation marks. Six years seemed like a lifetime ago. It might as well have been. He wasn’t even close to the same person as the kid sent to weasel into Liam’s pack and take over. It still didn’t feel like enough, though. The blood on his hands would never fully wash off.

“You should sleep,” Mason sighed, stopping at the top of the steps.

Theo hid his face, tucking his chin to his chest away from Mason, unable to subdue the familiar tingle of his claws sliding from his nail beds in a defensive instinct before registering that it was only Mason behind him. How had he not noticed him coming upstairs? Not for the first time, he was happy Mason couldn’t hear the way his heart sped up or smell how drastically the air just changed. The flinch telegraphed everything, though. Bizarrely, he was more apt to catch things than most of the supernaturals in the pack. Sometimes it was beyond helpful, other times it was more annoying than anything else.

Sleep had not been his friend the last few nights. Calling it his friend in general was a stretch. He huffed, silently shaking his head at the chill shooting through his body. On instinct, his knees and chin tucked tighter into his chest, semi-purposefully avoiding Mason’s eyes, despite how much they burned a hole in his back. 

He hated sleeping. Especially since… He shuddered. 

Nightmares flocked to him, feeding off every crooked instinct and ceaselessly poking at the cracks in his good side no matter how he tried to patch them up. Regardless of their unhelpfulness, those were familiar by now. He could manage them, more or less. As much as anyone could manage watching their sister rip the heart from their chest, at least. These new nightmares though… 

“I’m not human. I don’t need sleep,” Theo blurted.  
“Bullshit. Corey sleeps like eleven hours a day,” Mason said, laughter bubbling into his voice as he sat beside Theo. “And that’s when I wake him up. He’d sleep the whole damn day if he could.”

A feelings talk was not what he needed. Nothing was going to fix these nightmares. Talking fixed nothing. Words were too easy to twist into roundabout half-truths. He rubbed at his arms, trying to soothe prickling skin as the memory of being pulled into Hell jumped to the front of his mind. The movement turned from soothing to vicious as the goosebumps worsened, hoping they weren’t visible in the moonlight to a normal person.

“He’s always been a special case.” Theo looked over his shoulder, half-smiling, before refocusing on the dim tree-line. After a moment he sighed, shoulders softening as he wrapped his arms around his knees again. “I’ll sleep when Stiles does.”  
“So, when they’re home?”  
“Yeah,” he said, voice small, even to his own ears. 

What happened to the big, bad chimera that was searching for the strongest pack the world had ever known? One second he was inches away from being the most powerful supernatural creature to ever exist, the next he was curled up, torn and sniffling like he was nine again. This wasn’t how things should be. Handling stressful situations, playing the game without breaking a sweat about its outcome was his trademark. So why was the gnawing at his bones and tingling in his gut turning to fear when he thought about tomorrow’s plan?

He dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead on his knees. All he ever had on the line with the Doctors was his own life. If he screwed up either he could talk his way out or he’d be dead. Nothing too major. 

An image of Liam, bloodied but not bleeding, roaring at him, but the roar was so distorted with anger it hardly sounded like him flashed into Theo’s mind. He tightened his grip on his legs, all but shaking. 

“Damn nightmares,” he grumbled under his breath, muffling the words in his knees.  
“Huh?”   
Theo shook his head, forcing himself to slacken his grip and straighten one of his legs. “Nothing.” 

Everything was so different now. Others dying never mattered before. Just another day in the life. Now though, he had to consider others, had to play the games knowing that there were people he’d jump in front of a bullet for on the line. 

A beat of silence stretched between them before Mason spoke again, placing a gentle hand on Theo’s shoulder, “Seriously, get some sleep. You’re no good if you’re too tired to fight.”  
“I’m not part of the fighting, remember? Exterior support,” he huffed, the air souring around him.

Logic dictated it was the best plan. No one could predict how he would react inside the factory. He could blow the entire plan before it started if his animals took over. Keeping him back was the safe play, but that didn’t stop his teeth from grinding or his shoulders from tensing. He wanted to leave a message for any other enemies that at least someone in Beacon Hills spilled blood and wouldn’t hesitate to crack a few eggs. It was the wrong instinct, and he knew it, but that didn’t make it any easier to ignore. Nor did the coyote’s salivation at the idea of letting loose, or the wolf’s strangling desire to protect Liam and his friends. 

“Aka, the back-up in case it all goes to hell, which mind you, it always does.”  
“Only because you’re all idiots,” Theo chuckled.   
“Hey, I take offense to that,” Mason grumped, playfully shoving Theo’s shoulder as he stood. “Just try to sleep, okay? I’ve got a feeling you’re going to need it.”  
Theo sighed, shifting to look over his shoulder as Mason walked to the ladder-stairs, “No guarantees.”

——————

“Okay, people, get your team’s gear and split up. Make sure all radios are on frequency three,” Chris ordered. 

Theo had to admit, the man was pretty intimidating, standing in a room full of supernatural creatures and ordering them around. No one blinked an eye at it. Not even Peter, and that man’s sole goal in life was to piss off Stiles by any means necessary. The way the eggheads planned the attack out seemed pretty foolproof, down to the distraction and setting up a communications spot outside the foundry. 

With a curt nod to Argent, Theo turned and headed out the room with the others. The slowness from the last few weeks evaporating with the sense of mission electrifying the air. He stopped a few feet away, scanning the small crowd for Jordan. They were supposed to set up a final tracker along a perimeter around the old foundry, creating a perimeter monitoring system. Then they would go on the attack. Well, everyone else. He was the watchdog for the system, tracking down any renegades without butchering them, per Stiles’ rules.

The moon might have passed and their little tiff in the woods may have been a couple weeks ago, but that hadn’t made his animals any less prickled by Stiles’ rebukes or jokes. For a moment he focused through the vague sounds of chatter, hearing Lydia’s harsh whispered tone as he walked.

“Do you trust him?” She asked.  
“Not one bit… His anger, though? _That_ I trust,” Stiles answered. 

He smirked, slightly tilting his head as he kept moving, sliding his hands into his jacket pockets. Quiet, under-his-breath chuckles slipped out. The wolf preened under the praise, determinedly ignoring the first part. It was stupid and childish. He knew it, but that didn’t matter as Mason’s words from the tunnels rang in his ears, ‘No one will ever forgive or trust you. Ever.’ Having an iota of trust from anyone in the pack was miles from where he started fresh out of the ground.

For the moment Lydia seemed to trust him okay. She reserved her vaguely murderous energy for Peter. One day he would ask what the older wolf had done to earn her prolonged wrath. Parrish was a wildcard, neither trusting nor distrusting him, still unhappy about the beast fiasco awakening the hellhound. Theo maintained his only involvement with it was using Parrish to find the chimeras. As far as that period in his life went, that was one of the comparatively bloodless things he did, and ultimately worked out in their favor. Especially for Mason and Liam.

He barely stifled the growl his animals pushed through him, snapping viciously in unison at the images swarming him. Liam’s open, gentle smiles that were never meant for him and the glow throughout his whole being that Theo knew would disappear if he drew the wolf’s attention from Hayden. Even back then, Liam mattered more than he was willing to admit. 

“You’ve got the plan, right? You’re coming, but you’re not coming inside.” Stiles lifted his bat, pointing it at Theo’s nose. “No matter what.” 

Thankfully Stiles couldn’t smell the blood leaking from his palms where black claws broke through skin. No need to hand him yet another reason to rethink his place in the plan. Anyone could run the perimeter. They didn’t need an unstable chimera for that. 

Besides, even if Theo felt like arguing, the thick creases and tight-set line of his lips would have him thinking twice. It was downright steely, all frigid with not an ounce of give. Nothing like the Stiles he remembered from fourth grade.

Mason stopped beside them, slinging a second tranq gun over his shoulder. “Are we going, or what?”

——————

Theo sighed as Mason tripped over another root, his arms flailing on instinct. He threw out a hand, intent on stopping him from falling all the way to the ground. It was almost smacked away, but Mason hastily grabbed on and flung himself back into an upright position. 

“Thanks,” Mason mumbled, straightening out the guns slung over his shoulders.   
Theo shrugged, turning his head to Mason, though his senses stayed focused on Stiles and Parrish ahead of them, “Don't mention it.” 

They were beyond the Preserve’s boundaries, closer to enemy territory than home. One wrong step now and the whole rescue was screwed. The other teams had split off not long ago, each getting into their positions, waiting for word from Stiles. Theo had tried to follow them with his ears, but he lost them quickly. 

Everything about the spazz had turned cold when they left his basement, even the determination that leaked off him in droves. It concerned him more than he figured would be appropriate to voice. Who was he to question the brains of Pack McCall? Not that anyone other than Mason would listen, and even then he was likely to get asked if it was out of jealousy. 

His footsteps were louder than he liked as he tromped ahead, following the obvious trail Parrish and Stiles left behind them. The hairs on the nape of his neck bristled, making his lip curl. They could be tracked too easily this way, and the coyote was railing against such an amateur move. It snapped at him mercilessly, howling about being followed, about how useless he was being by hiding in the shadows. 

“You doing okay?” Mason asked, his voice silencing the coyote for a moment.  
“I’m fine,” Theo growled under his breath. 

The wolf joined the coyote, snarling at him, hackles raised. Neither would abide by his attempts as stoicism, not when he so blatantly wasn’t even in the same universe as okay. He pushed forward, moving faster through the trees than Mason could, taking advantage of his superior night vision. Just a little longer, he told himself, fighting to keep his own lip from twitching as the animals growled louder. Nothing soothed them anymore. His wolf’s growl reverberated through his body, physically shaking him.

Stiles’ groan pulled him back, stopping him in his tracks a few feet away. He took a steadying breath, forcing back his animals, ignoring how furious they both were. In that moment, they were distractions, drowning out the world, pulling him too far in. There was no way he could focus with them so close to the surface. This mission was too important.

By the time he had himself under tight enough control, Parrish had already set up the sonic motion detector and huddled with the other two. He guessed they were going over the timing one more time with the others over their radios, if the snippets he caught were any indication. 

“Where is the idiot, anyway?”  
“I’m right here,” snorted Theo, walking closer and tossing his bag to the ground.  
“Surprisingly enough,” Stiles glanced up at him, “I’m not talking about you.” He refocused on the radio, “Beta team, you have ears on Corey and Isaac?”  
“No contact,” Derek huffed.  
“Give them another minute. They don’t have a radio with them,” Lydia said, her _‘I told you so’_ expression audible.  
Stiles glared at the device before dropping his hand exasperatedly to his side, looking to Theo. “It had to be one of you causing problems.”

His wolf bristled at the remark, a low growl catching in Theo’s throat. He cut it off with a huff, forcing himself back a step. Maybe he had been a tad overzealous in promising to not maul anyone tonight when he bargained to come. 

Isaac’s voice cut through the silence, yanking everyone’s focus to the radio in Stiles’ hand, “At beta team. Spark plug is a go.” 

A loud boom sounded from the southward side of the compound, rattling the leafless trees. It’s orange glow lit up the trees that were scattered around the half-decrepit building as white streams flooded from the interior, stabbing into the woods. Theo couldn’t help but smile and shake his head as Stiles started flapping his arms and stuttering beside him, looking for the radio still in his hand.

Any other situation and he might have sat back smiling to himself, leaving the spazz to figure it out on his own. The itching in his nail-beds and still-bristling hair on his neck did not let him enjoy the sight, instead forcing him forward. He grabbed Stiles’ wrist firmly, careful not to let too much of his anger seep into the grip. Breaking the pack mother was not a good idea at the moment. 

“Small fire! I said to set a _small_ fire. This is not small!”  
“Did you want it to be effective or not?” Isaac snorted.  
“Effective,” Stiles said reluctantly, scowling furiously at the radio in his hand, “but did it have to be so huge?”  
“Yes! We’re luring out hunters, not weekend firefighters or girl-scouts.”

Another brief chuckle built in Theo’s throat at the frustrated grumble that rolled out of Stiles, still not used to how thoroughly Isaac got under his skin. The wolf was a true master of the art form, almost better than he was. Almost. 

“If you blow this place up before we’re all out of here, I’m never letting you near fire again, young man,” Stiles grumped.   
The indignant smirk in Isaac’s voice turned stiff. “I won’t touch a match for a year so long as we get them out.”

Theo’s jaw clenched at the words, holding himself silently in place despite the howling agreement both his animals were letting off inside him. A snarl twitched across his face as he stepped away, beating back the wolf and coyote as they surged forward, howling to go on the offensive and attacking with the pack. His gums itched painfully as he ground his teeth, forcing his fangs to recede. The force of it had him shaking. 

Didn’t they understand he wanted to rip the hunters to shreds without them wearing at his self-control?

“Move out.”

The firm command and press of the radio into his hand jerked Theo out of his head. He blinked quickly, taking in the shrinking shapes of Parrish and Mason before he zeroed in on Stiles, watching him, his stern face softening just an ounce. It was enough to make him smirk. 

“I know. Stay here. No being the prince of collateral damage,” he blurted, sighing in relief as he lifted his free hand and didn’t see claws, placating Stiles before he got a word out.  
“Right.”

With that Stiles turned, disappearing after the other two. His chest ached as he strained his ears to follow their footsteps, yearning to run after them. Both his animals whined, adding their not-so-quiet opinions to his ache, worsening it. He wanted to scream at them, remind them who was in charge, who was in control. 

He snarled, turning, lashing out at the nearest tree, slicing easily through the bark. It wasn’t the target he wanted to rip apart, but it was the best he could get his claws into. The quiet forest dissolved, coyote howling, throwing its weight alongside the wolf, turning the blows from therapeutic into a frenzy he wouldn’t have been able to stop even if he wanted to. 

By the time the coyote surrendered the last vestiges of control back to him, he was sweating, shoulders heaving. Several young trees were scattered around him, blood spattering them from where the wood had its revenge on his hands. It was a small price to pay for at least a degree of quiet. 

He could breathe. 

The itching ache in his chest was still there, tugging him towards the foundry, but it was bearable. More of a nagging sensation than maddening, not unlike the pesky morals Liam was always griping at him about. 

His eyes widened as he wrenched his left hand up, staring at it as his panic knocked the air out of him. Where had he put the radio?! He spun, eyes raking over the ground, hoping he hadn’t shattered it in his rampage. Relief rushed through him as he spotted the antenna half-buried beneath debris and threw himself forward, snatching the radio from the ground. The sound of it would have pulled him back, he assured himself, swallowing around the shame bubbling in his gut.

“THEO!” Stiles’ screech froze his blood.   
“Stiles?”  
“You know what I said about staying put?” Before Theo could answer Stiles continued, “Ignore it! Get your ass in here. _Now_!” 

Theo took off, leaping through the sparse forest, abandoning the radio in favor of dropping forward onto all fours. Both animals fell in step, singularly focused on getting to the foundry, getting to the pack. His claws slid out, allowing him to grip the ground and push forward faster. 

All of him was in sync as he moved effortlessly, picking up Stiles’ scent trail without blinking, darting smoothly to follow its weaving path through the trees despite his lack of familiarity with the terrain. The white light streaming from the base helped guide him, backlighting the chain-link barrier that surrounded it. He hardly slowed his approach, racing steadily towards the fence, leaping easily to the top. His feet barely touched the metal for a fraction of a second before pushing off, putting him halfway to the building as he landed, already crouched, ready to spring. 

Few hunters remained outside. The near-deafening popping of gunshots told him they were all occupied inside. His coyote grumped for a moment, salivating at the thought of delivering just a sliver of the payback these monsters deserved. 

The thought was shoved aside as a familiar scream cut through the air, snapping his focus back to the others. He launched forward again, a roaring howl slipping from him this time, both as a warning to the hunters and a call to the pack. Several answered him, but not the one he wished would. 

Strained human screams rose to his call. He couldn’t pinpoint the source of the sounds. They were too hidden beneath the gunfire echoing throughout the steel-filled structure. A short growl rose in his chest. He shook his head, refocusing on the distinct chemical smell in Stiles’ scent. Even among the blood, sulfur and acrid smoke overwhelming the air, he would be hard pressed to lose it. 

He skidded around a corner, claws gouging the ground for purchase. Slowing down was nowhere near an option, even as he noticed the hunter down the hall taking aim. He smirked, pushing off the ground, pulling his legs into a half-tuck and angling himself to bounce off the wall. The surprise on the hunter’s face had him chuckling as he sailed over the man’s head, knee meeting his chin is a blow so forceful he winced at the cracking.

As his hands touched the ground, he was already pulling his legs underneath himself again, careening forward without a glance back. If he was dead, then at least he hadn’t mauled him, so technically his promise was still unbroken. Stiles might not agree, but when did they ever agree on anything? 

The scent nearly knocked him off balance as he burst through a door. Only his wolf’s quick reflexes kept him from staggering too much as he threw himself back onto two feet, effectively jerking to a stop in a single step. Several hunters turned to face him, guns still pointed in the opposite direction. _Their mistake,_ he chuckled inwardly, lowering into a half-crouch, lips peeling back in a warning snarl.

Before any had the chance to fully turn, he lunged. 

He was on the first hunter in two strides, swiping the gun from his hands, unbalancing him. It would have been easy to bring his other hand swinging up and tear open his carotid artery. With a vicious roar, he brought his elbow down at the base of his skull. He didn’t waste a second, shifting to focus to the next target. 

She met him as he moved towards her, slashing his chest with her knife. A brief hiss was his only reaction to the searing pain. Physical pain meant nothing. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it. She contorted to the ground with a shriek. The sound cut off quickly as he kneed her, proceeding to toss her unconscious body into the hunter sprinting towards him. 

A pink dart landed in the man’s shoulder as he struggled to shift the woman off of him. Not a second later, he slumped to the ground. Theo looked around, finding no threats he relaxed his shoulders and lowered his arms. 

“Anything else you need help with?” Theo asked, finally not faking the controlled smirk he was giving Stiles as he, Lydia, Mason, and Corey came over.  
“They separated us by trapping the others in a room circled with mountain ash and pinning us down here,” Mason replied.  
“Why didn’t you guys stick to the quadrant break down?”  
“They got lucky and took down Argent and Peter in one go, so Stiles’ team came to reinforce and protect, which is when they got Jordan. Malia and her team walked right into the ash room,” Lydia answered, her voice hoarser than he had ever heard it.   
“What do you want me to do?” Theo asked, looking to Stiles.

As much as Theo knew where he wanted to go, this wasn’t his operation and the next move wasn’t his to call. None of the decisions tonight were up to him. And more than that, he trusted the spazz to make the best choice. No one else played a better game of chess. He might consider Lydia the one exception when she was fed up with the pack’s testosterone levels. 

“Go get them,” Stiles said, not a hint of flutter in his heartbeat as he doled out orders. “Lydia and I’ll stay with these guys. Send Derek and Ethan to help get them out of here.”  
“Thought you didn’t trust me?” Theo smirked as he turned, already heading to the door.   
Lydia rolled her eyes, “Go! No snarking.” 

Theo gave her a flippant thumbs up over his shoulder, stepping back through the doors, already trying to pick up a trail. Sadly, concrete was not great at holding scents and too good at bouncing sound. Everything was chaos. The place was a jungle of steel and cement. It was enough to give him a headache. Smell was easier, clearer despite the foul tinge of gunpowder, but only just. If he was any less experienced a tracker, he might have a problem with his task and get himself lost following the harsh screams coming from his right. 

A smirk crawled across his face as a thin tendril of the pack’s scent swept through the corridor, carried by the barest breeze. He took off to the left, barreling down at top speed on two legs, prioritizing quick stops and easy turns over the flat running speed. Periodically he stopped, rescenting the air, assuring himself that he was in fact heading in the right direction as the sounds of fighting grew around him. It was getting close enough that he knew which screams and shouts belonged to who. So far he heard everyone except Mason and Corey. 

He turned roughly, dropping his eyes onto the still hunter he dropped. There was far less resistance than there should have been. For how worried the older guys were, these hunters were barely putting up a fight. Only one of them had lasted longer than a minute. If they were keeping an alpha and beta as strong as Scott and Liam captives in a place like this, they should all have been armed to the teeth and on high alert after Isaac’s explosion. 

“Something’s not right,” he muttered, crouching next to the hunter.

Rifling through enemy pockets was a low bar of a caliber he never imagined sinking to, but in this situation, he made an exception to his high standards of warfare. There was barely enough ammunition on him to take down a single well-motivated wolf, let alone a pack.

“They had to know the entire pack was going to come for Scott,” he said as he stood, regretting not taking a radio with him.

The nagging instinct that this was a trap grew louder as the halls continued to be relatively void. A snarl built in his throat, the coyote’s frustration reaching a boiling point as a familiar sour musk hit him, snapping him back to his mission. 

Corey’s cloaking might make them invisible and nearly silent, but it didn’t hide their scent trail whatsoever. It was somewhat unfortunate whenever Theo was sent to get them at school, and the two hid in the janitor’s closet or boiler room. But in that moment, he was thankful for it. 

Liam’s roar ricochetted down the hall, rattling Theo’s ribs as he slammed to a stop, shoes squeaking as they skidded over the ground. 

It was coming from the opposite direction as the trail. He turned in a tight circle, a frustrated grumble leeching out as his animals growled and snapped at him. The only thing that mattered to the coyote was Liam, making sure he was safe, that he got out of this hell. The wolf itself was as torn as Theo, both yearning to chase down the idiotic duo and to run towards Liam. 

This was why he hated emotions. Simple decisions became damn near impossible, other people’s motivations overriding his own or shoving the spotlight on arguments he would otherwise ignore.

Another roaring howl burst down the hall.

The foundry was a blur around him as he moved, reaching a dead sprint before the roar began to echo. His own roar rose to meet it. Corey would have to protect Mason himself. In theory, the chameleon was capable enough nowadays. He was a far cry from the flighty kid Theo met six years ago. Hell, he managed to knock Theo on his ass the other day in training with his new human taser routine. 

“They’re going to be fine,” he growled to himself, pivoting and launching into another hallway, nearly smacking into the solid metal door at the end of it. 

He stepped back, animals seething under his skin as he inhaled and immediately sneezed. Mountain ash didn’t stop him, but the fine particulates never ceased to irritate his nose. At least he knew he was in the right place. No supernatural would be able to even get close to the barrier, let alone get through it. Just like in the library, he thought, wincing as the moonlit room flashed into his mind, Scott laying nearly dead on the stairs, drenched in his own blood.

A snarl tore out of Theo as he shoved the memory away. That wasn’t who he was anymore. He stumbled backwards, barely catching himself on a railing as his animals snapped at one another. As in control as he had been then, they were totally out of balance. The coyote was driving most of the time, with Theo calling shotgun, forcibly relegating the wolf to the trunk. Tearing himself apart wasn’t easy, nor did it leave him particularly sane, but it was the only way to survive. 

Snapping snarls and screams rattled the door, drawing him out of his head again. He sprang for the door, all but ripping it off its hinges in his haste to get it open. The downward stairs caught him by surprise. He skidded down a few before finally regaining his footing and moving as quickly and quietly as possible. 

The fight grew louder the closer he got, drowning the brief flicker of hope that the group was holding their own with each step. He paused at the bottom landing, glancing around the corner, swallowing roughly as he surveyed the battleground. 

Liam was at the center, a vicious snarl twisting his bloody wolfed-out face as his claws tore long gashes down Malia’s side. At her shriek of pain, his coyote doubled down on its efforts to take control, wild and screaming for vengeance. The coyote might still want to murder him, but he would be lying if he said the feeling was mutual. 

“Scott, please!” Isaac shouted.

Beside him, Scott was crouched over a struggling Isaac, though the alpha was barely recognizable. If not for the cloying honey undertone of the man’s scent, he never would have known the too thin blackened skin stretched over the too thin, long-legged, more wolf-like than human frame was him. The rest of the pack were scattered around the room, either unconscious, very bloody and broken, or some combination of both. 

Theo stepped around the corner, fangs and claws dropping as his lip twitched, caught between a defensive snarl and forcing an over-confident smirk. 

“Liam!” 

Theo’s voice ricocheted off the concrete walls almost as loudly as the steel pipes around him reverberated from it. Both wolves turned towards him, equally terrifying expressions on their faces, despite Scott’s being far more animalistic. His stomach sank as he met Liam’s gaze.

Gone was the electric anger that seemed to simmer in the blue of his human eyes or the blind molten rage of his wolf ones. Instead, a glassy, dead white stared back at him. The longer he stared, the colder and deeper the pit in his stomach became. Liam was sunshine incarnate, deadly solar flares of his temper included. Cold and dark were the last words he ever would have associated with him. Yet, he had no better descriptors for the beta’s eyes.

The coyote in him bristled as Scott pulled back his lips, hackles raised, directly challenging him with a growling bark that dug at his core. His own fangs slid out, an answering growl following as he stepped forward, walking slowly down the steps. No one did that and survived. No one. Not even an alpha.

He shook his head, forcefully breaking the stare down. _It’s still Scott_ , he growled to himself, teeth grinding together, undoubtedly near cracking as his jaw muscles protested. Animal-driven as the two were, they were still Scott and Liam, and hurting them wasn’t an option. 

The air was shoved out of his chest as Scott tackled him, dragging him off his feet. His claws cut thick lines along Theo’s arms as the chimera spun, slipping the hold, but not soon enough to avoid his shoulder impacting the concrete. He rolled and twisted into a crouch, one hand scoring the ground as he skidded to a stop. 

A roar bellowed from him as he launched forward, covering the small distance between them before the alpha could turn. He might be at a strength disadvantage, but for once he was happy Scott never took him up on any fight training. It was easy enough to fake him out, half-darting for the legs and rocketing up to his shoulders instead. His arm looped under his chin, cinching enough so he could pull Scott along with him, furthering the momentum with which the alpha slammed into the concrete. 

Liam lunged at him from the side, claws slicing through the air not an inch from his nose. On instinct, Theo grabbed the other’s wrist and pulled, flipping him over his shoulder. He winced at the crack behind him. Broken bones were better than death or slicing them open, right? 

Guttural snarling to his right gave him barely a breath’s warning as Scott launched at him, jaws snapping shut inches from him as he caught the wolf’s shoulders. Claws dug into his sides as they hit the ground, easily slicing through skin and muscle as he fought to keep the alpha an arm’s length away. 

Isaac’s distinctive roar shook the air, drawing Scott’s attention. The alpha’s claws pulled out. Theo sighed in relief, going limp for a second on the floor. He barely blinked when Scott was tackled off of him. Sharp growling snarls roared beside him. All he could do was breathe and hope his lungs were strong enough to keep the air in. 

Not a single nerve was quiet as he forcibly took one ragged breath after another, damn near screaming as he tipped to the side. As long as he could breathe, he could fight. His arm shook under the added weight as he continued to shift. A fiery pain ripped through his abdomen as he crumbled to the floor, arm giving out. Air flew soundlessly from his constricting lungs. He had to get up. The job wasn’t done yet. His fingers grasped for purchase on the concrete, his core burning as he struggled to push himself back up to his elbows.

A sharp pain tore across his sternum, wrenching a scream from him. The blow’s force knocked him down, head cracking back on the concrete. Liam’s claws gouged deep lines into his chest, blood spilling down in thick rivulets. He could feel each pump of his heart and the blood pulsing down his side. Of course life would be this cruel. He was about to die at the hands of the person he had barely acknowledged as important. It was what he deserved, karmically. But Liam didn’t. This would kill him.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he said, giving up on fighting back the tears as Liam raised his hand again, blood dripping off his claws, landing on Theo’s cheek.

There was no recognition in the wolf’s eyes, no hint of light anywhere behind the eerie white. Only the swirling fury of a rabid animal. It was too close to the void-like chill in Tara’s eyes as she pinned him to floor and ripped the heart from his chest over and over again. He shuddered, biting back the whine that pushed into his throat, though he was unsuccessful.

“You don’t have to stop.”

Liam froze mid-strike, hand quivering.

A pink dart landed in the wolf’s shoulder, eliciting a snarling roar from him. Another two quickly joined the first. Liam’s growl was focused beyond Theo as the wolf attempted to charge at whoever shot at him.

Had his limbs listened, he would have already planted himself between the wolf and his pack. Yet, he barely pushed his torso off the ground. He rolled into sitting, voices swimming around him, the world tilting as he groaned.

Theo did not expect to see Stiles to be the one rushing towards him and dragging him back to relative safety. That was a new level of trust. He set him down, looking at the chimera’s chest with gaping eyes and a puzzled frown. Theo glanced down, rather impressed as he took stock of the giant gashes crisscrossing down his torso.

“You look like an open autopsy.”  
“Yeah, I’ve had better days,” he said, panting, hoping the pain would ease sooner rather than later. “So, you got a plan beyond tranqing them? They can’t hear us.”  
“I was really hoping you had one,” Stiles admitted.

An outright statement like that was rare in and of itself, let alone to him. Theo’s stomach sank as he glanced back at Liam still struggling from whatever sonic weapon the others had deployed.

“You hurt?” Mason asked, his chest heaving and heart drumming louder than Theo’s own as he knelt at his side.  
“No, I normally spurt blood from my ribcage.” Theo’s lip twitched, a suppressed growl rumbling in his chest as he forced himself to feet. “But I’ll be fine. You guys get going.”  
“I don’t think you know what ‘fine’ actually means,” Corey said, his face pale as a sheet.  
“You got a handle on this idiot?” Stiles asked, looking to Mason. At the other’s nod he turned to Corey, “You and me are going to check on the others. Wake up who you can and get them moving out. Tell Ethan and Jackson to find Lydia. Once you’re done with that, you start taking Scott out.”  
As the other two moved away, Mason shook his head. “You know he’s right. You never use that word properly.”  
“It means that I’m still breathing, which means I can distract the hunters while you guys get everyone out,” Theo snarled, forcing himself to his feet.

Despite a stumble, he managed to stay upright, which rather impressed him. The whole of his chest was on fire, blood still somewhat pouring from the criss-crossing claw tracks. Deep wounds took forever to heal, and these would be no exception, but he couldn’t focus on that. 

“Are you insane?” Mason grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back, forcing him to turn around.  
“Do you really want me to answer that?”

The hunters were close, probably only a few corridors down. If Mason stayed any longer, he would be killed. These people had no use for a human so clearly allied with supernatural creatures. Losing Mason would disable the pack more than any of those morons realized, and he was not about to let that happen. Not after working this hard to get Liam away from these monsters.

“Urgh. You’re impossible!” Mason groaned, glaring at him.  
“I’ll hold them off.” Pause. “Get out of here. Get _him_ out. All that matters is him.”  
“I’m not leaving you here. They’ll kill you, or worse,” Mason said, shaking his head desperately.

He chuckled, quiet and strained as he put a hand on Mason’s shoulder.

There were many worse things he had seen than a dingy cell and far crueler things had been done to him than any normal person could ever think of. Hunters didn’t scare him. Not even ones worse than Monroe. What more could they do than Hell?

“I’ve been through worse.” Theo shrugged, sliding backwards before Mason could grab him again. “And besides,” he looked at Liam hanging off Mason’s other shoulder, “some people are worth dying for.”  
“Was that a Fro—”  
“Get out of here,” he snarled, eyes flashing as he started running towards the sounds of the hunters.

If this was all that Tara’s death lead to, than he wasn’t sorry at all. So long as it saved Liam, then it was worth it. Fuzziness swam all through his vision, blurring everything, but he kept going. He was going to save them, all of them. The pack would be safe and whole, everyone would be happy, no more Theo to worry about in the back of their minds. Stiles would probably cheer and try to throw a party about it.

He slowed as the thunder of approaching hunters grew loud enough that even a human would hear them, letting out a challenging howl, drawing them in. So what if he was a pawn in this game? It wasn’t technically anything new. He might just be good enough at this role to save the pack.

“Are they sending me their trash, hoping I get distracted?” A woman asked as she turned the corner, gun in hand at her side.  
“Go ahead, underestimate me. The list of people that have done that and are still alive is short.”  
“Oh, a monster with some confidence.” She chuckled as she stopped, cocking a hip and smiling. “You’re a manipulator. How the hell did you get into the goody-goody alpha’s pack?”

It was a tight and thin smile, all sharp edges, like shards of a beautiful stained glass. The whole of her was the same, from her cocked gun to the studded mini vest laced with enough wolfsbane that he could smell it across the twenty foot gap.

“I like to think of myself as an outcome engineer,” Theo replied, projecting as confident an aura as he could.  
“Well,” the hunter hummed, cocking her gun, “I doubt you can engineer your way out of what’s in store for you.”  
“Good luck. You can’t break what’s already broken,” he said, cursing how his smirk faltered as his animals snarled at him.  
“We’ll see about that,” she smirked, pulling the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> I am planning on doing at minimum bi-weekly updates on Mondays.


End file.
